


Unbreakable Heart

by Marie_Fanwriter



Series: The Many Relationships of Garrus Vakarian [2]
Category: Mass Effect, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Tragedy, Bad Decisions, Blood, Bonding, Emotional Sex, Flash Flood Romance, Genophage, Hurt/Comfort, Krogans, Light Bondage, M/M, Mass Effect Trilogy - Freeform, Multiple Pairings, Multiple Relationships, Partner Betrayal, Partner Swapping, Polyamory, Porn With Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reverie, Rough Sex, Sabotage, Submissive Light, Turians, What-If, porn without plot turned into with porn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2018-04-12 11:45:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 35
Words: 223,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4478069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marie_Fanwriter/pseuds/Marie_Fanwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Formerly known as 'The Many Relationships of Garrus Vakarian'<br/>...<br/>While the Commander is groundside the standby team has been left with nothing to do, but wait. What's the harm in blowing off a little steam?<br/>Chapters 1-3<br/>...<br/>When the Reapers hit, Shepard must bring the krogan and turians together. Standing as a united front turns out to be more difficult than one would expect.<br/>Chapters 4-14<br/>…<br/>The Reaper war is over, Garrus and his mate must face the new challenges that the Galaxy has to throw at them together.<br/>Chapters 15-present<br/>…<br/>NSFW Chapters – 1-4 and 7 with Wrex<br/>NSFW Chapters 4, 6,10, 13, 17, 18, 20, 22, 31, 33 with Adrien<br/>NSFW Chapters 31 Other pairs<br/>Archive Warnings apply, chapters 7 and 11</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mass Effect 1

**Author's Note:**

> Rated M for an exciting homosexual cross-species liaison, spanning all three Mass Effect Games. Along with an in depth look at ME3, when new partners are added to the equation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now edited for your reading pleasure.

Rated M for an exciting homosexual cross-species liaison, you’ve been warned.  

+-+-+-+

The first time it happened they were alone in the cargobay. Ashley had gone to bed with the rest of the crew and Shepard was out on a mission with Tali and Kaidan. Garrus and Wrex were Shepard’s standby team while he was planetside on Therum picking up the asari archeologist.

With the Mako gone, his weapon cleaned and on his back there wasn’t much else to do other than pace. Wrex was standing in his usual space by the lockers, dosing. After an hour or so Garrus had finally worn enough of a hole in the deck plating and sat himself down on the edge of a supply crate to fiddle with his omnitool. 

“Finally,” the krogan battlemaster grumbled. “Thought you’d never stop.”

The turian looked up from his tool. “Something wrong Wrex?” he asked. So far the two had been getting along well enough. Famously even, if one took into consideration their conflicting species. 

“Twelve steps left, turn, twelve steps right, for the past hour…” he replied eyes still shut. “Damn turians and their damn discipline. Can’t even pace without precision.”

He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him. “I can start again if you’d prefer?” the sniper tilted his mandibles in a smirk when Wrex shook his head. “What the hell else are we supposed to do?”

The senior shrugged. “Spar?”

“Really?” The junior was struck a little stupid.

“Why not, whelp? Afraid you’ll lose?” he asked finally opening his dark red eyes. “Shepard hasn’t taken either of us out since you wanted to test drive the Mako. I am krogan, my blood demands... something.”

“I get that, I could use a little tension relief myself. Been awhile since I’ve seen this much combat. These couple days shipside are making me anxious. Think we’ve got time?”

The battlemaster shrugged. “It’ll take at least ten minutes to get down there from orbit,” he stretched his arms above his head, cracking his neck. “Don’t see why not.”

“That’s true,” Garrus replied and stood up, removing his weapons from his back and settling them carefully down on the crate. “Why me though?”

“Who else? The humans?” his laugh echoed in the cargobay as Wrex started removing his own gear.

Garrus joined him. “True. Wouldn’t want to break the pilot.”

“The one with glass bones?” the krogan asked, and Garrus nodded. “Still not sure why Shepard keeps that one around.” He had stripped down to his armored pants and moved to the centre of the cargobay to wait for his opponent.

Looking up to see how far Wrex had disrobed, he noted he’d even removed his boots. He was stripped down to the same level, but kept his gloves on to cover his talons, as was typical for turian sparing. “Anything specific?” he asked.

“No talons, but I see you’ve got that covered. I won’t use biotics. Pin for a three count or until a yield is called?”

“Better work for the pin,” the turian replied and moved into a standard combat stance, his arms down covering his sides and hands at neck level, one foot drifting backwards for balance. “Ready?”

Wrex widened his stance and left his arms at his sides, hands sliding closed into fists. “Go!” he yelled and started forwards. The krogan charged the ten or so paces between them hands moving out to grab at the turian. He was left empty handed though as Garrus quickly danced away. Things continued like that for another minute, a charge and a dodge before Wrex grew tired of it. “Stop running away and fight me whelp!”

He charged again, this time Garrus was ready and he ducked before punching the krogan in the stomach a few times. It didn’t seem to phase the much larger male though as he stayed in close and started throwing a few strikes of his own. They worked back and forth a moment, blocks and jabs and rights before breaking for a quick breather. 

“We should have done this sooner,” the turian said as he moved back in with a kick, his longer legs making it easy to stay out of range the krogan’s arms. Wrex grunted as the stiff kick hit its mark. When Garrus tried it again though? He managed to find his leg grabbed and pulled swiftly upwards, with an undignified yelp he found himself on his back.

“You’re right!” Wrex replied with a grin as he moved in. The turian wasn’t stunned long however, and he managed to roll away before the krogan could mount him. “Hold still!”

“I don’t think so…” Garrus taunted as he managed to avoid a swift cuff to the head and regain his footing. He took a moment to to breathe before attacking again. 

The two warriors continued with the friendly back and forth. As they learned each other’s styles they started moving faster and hitting harder. Swift punches and kicks from Vakarian were met with equally hard punches and knees from the Urdnot clan member. Before long they were both covered in a light sheen of sweat, breaths coming in rough pants as they were fairly evenly matched. Where Wrex was stronger, Garrus was faster.

Without warning the battlemaster lunged forwards at the turian’s knees. Taking the fight to the ground, the sound of plates cracking against the metal decking echoing in the cargobay. The speed with which the older male pinned the younger was astounding for someone of his size. He placed himself over the turian’s smaller body, trapping his arms at his sides. 

“One… Two…” he started counting for the pin. Garrus wasn’t having any of it, using a move that an old human friend in C-Sec combat training had taught him to throw the krogan off. He planted his feet on the ground and quickly forced his hips upwards and to the side. Wrex was caught off guard and flipped over onto his back. Garrus sitting between his parted knees, the position somewhat compromising. “What the hell?” he asked no one in particular.

Garrus grinned, showing his teeth. “Little tip I picked up,” he explained as he dug a bony elbow into the soft flesh of his opponent’s thigh. “Maybe you should have fought with the humans first. One… Two… Th...” he started counting down his own pin through panted breaths as he sat on top of the krogan’s chest.

Wrex roared and slammed a hand into Garrus’ unprotected side, with the space he gained he brought his head back and headbutted the turian hard enough to daze them both. Flipping them back over didn’t take much effort now and he completed the maneuver, sitting in between the turian’s thighs this time. “Fuck the humans, this is more fun.”

His junior took a moment longer to throw off the daze, managing to wrap his legs around Wrex’s waist. Effectively stopping him from moving up the same way he had only a minute ago. The krogan’s arms were too large to allow him to use his elbows to dig his way out. Instead he was trapped. In this position Garrus was able to block the next few blows aimed at his sensitive waist and he squeezed his own legs tightly in response, knowing the krogan wouldn’t like having his abdomen crushed. 

“Fun… right…” he laughed. 

Wrex seemed to have enough of being on his knees and he forced himself to his feet even as Garrus was dragged along with him. The turian slid his legs higher on his torso and grabbed an arm. Even as Wrex stood he was forced to stay bent over, trapped in an odd looking pin as his face was forced into the turian’s stomach. “I didn’t realise…” he panted with the exertion of both the fight and lifting the heavy turian up with him. “That turians were pyjacks too!” 

His superior strength won out on the battle, his free hand came down with enough force to wind the turian and gain his own release. He backed off a few paces and Garrus quickly rolled to his feet. His hand covering the quickly forming bruise on his abdomen. Wrex almost felt bad for that hit but then, without warning, Garrus moved forwards again fists flying. The krogan wasn’t quite ready for it and he wound up getting a face full of said fist.

When they parted again both had sustained minor injuries, but were happier than they had been in weeks. Finally a solid fight, a way to blow off steam on such a stressful mission. When they came together again it was more in the spirit of the spar they were originally going for, less hits left bruises and they more or less moved together. This time Garrus was the one to take Wrex down, wrapping his leg around the back of the krogan’s knee. 

Wrex was quick though and he grabbed Garrus before he could climb on top. He pulled him up, the turian’s back to the krogan’s chest. He was careful to put his head directly beside Garrus’ lest he get an eye full of fringe. Their bodies were flush against one another, one massive arm tightly wrapped around the turian’s waist while the other was wrapped around his throat for the pin.

Garrus struggled against him. Their closeness causing heat and friction between them which Wrex couldn’t help but groan at. He wrapped a leg around his opponent’s forcing it to be still, inevitably forcing them closer together, if that was possible. Now even their hips were flush. The heat and the fighting and the compromising position started to get to Wrex and he felt himself start to stiffen under his armored pants.

His primitive brain was screaming at him to take the writhing, too hot body in front of him while his logical one shouted the opposite. Krogan tended to spar for a knockout so this pinning business was getting to him. It had definitely been too long if he was considering fucking the turian. He’d been with krogan males before, what kind of idiot would go into the female's camp without knowing how to please their partner? That wasn’t the issue. The issue lie solely with the fact Garrus was turian.

For the turian’s part he wasn’t exactly sure what to expect. Wrex hadn’t started to count down his pin yet, though it was obvious he wasn’t going anywhere. Thrashing only caused Wrex to apply more pressure, his air supply started going thin and that new bruise on his abdomen screamed. When he heard the krogan groan and then pin his leg he suddenly realised why they hadn’t moved… he could smell the arousal emanating from the krogan. 

He froze. 

_ Arousal _ ? Surely he wasn’t actually turned on by this. The sniper hadn’t heard that the species was as bothered by sparing as his own was…  _ wait, _ he thought to himself,  _ am I seriously considering letting WREX fuck me? _ It wasn’t as though he was against bedding other men, turian’s weren’t exactly picky about their partners not with two males for every female on Palaven, but a krogan that could be… interesting.

Wrex hadn’t moved in the few seconds that Garrus had been still, so the turian assumed he was thinking the same thing. He gave his hips and experimental roll into the krogan’s, that set off another groan, the sound music to the turian and he grinned. They’d figure it out as they went along he decided. The Urdnot’s hips rose to meet the smaller male’s and he rubbed their armor together before making a dissatisfied noise at the lack of contact. 

All the sudden Garrus found himself on his stomach, the krogan had flipped them over so he knelt over his back. A strong arm pulled him to his knees, Vakarian’s back flush with the elder’s chest and one arm still wrapped around his throat tightly. What happened next was a little unexpected, the krogan’s mouth latched onto the turian’s shoulder and he licked and nipped at it until Garrus couldn’t help but respond to the contact with a buck of his hips.

“Do you know what you’re getting into?” Wrex asked against Garrus’ hide. The sniper nodded once, tilting his head away to allow the krogan more access to his throat. He was getting light headed and was grateful for the moment the Battlemaster’s arm left his throat. 

He heaved in a breath. “Thanks.” 

Wrex didn’t respond beyond a grunt as he slid his hands over the naked chest under him, resting his weight so that Garrus needed to keep his own hands on the floor to avoid crumbling into it. 

“Been with a male before?” The red-eyed male asked in that same husky voice. The question lent notice to the fact he was concerned enough to check for consent, but the tone only betrayed need.

“Never a krogan, but yeah.” He ground his hips back in Wrex’s. “You?”

“Never a turian,” he laughed low in his throat. “You only live once though.” He trailed his hands down to the turian’s pants and began removing them. With slightly less weight pressing down Garrus managed to balance them both on one arm and helped the krogan with the turian styled clasps before reaching around to help the krogan with his codpiece. He sighed in relief once the armor was removed and he was freed from the stiff constricting plates. “Oh, that’s better.”

Garrus chuckled, darkly. “I’ll bet.” He could feel the krogan’s cock pressed against his back. Larger than his own for sure, but the size wasn’t out of the question  _ if _ he was properly prepared. That IF worried him a little. 

Without warning a hand clasped around his throat, dragging him up straight on his knees. The tight fist cutting off his airway partially as he was pulled tightly in, flush against the dominant male. The rough treatment spurred a moan. “Remove your armor for me whelp. I have to prepare you.” With a half nod Garrus brought shaking hands down to his pants and threw off the unclasped pieces, Wrex’s free hand rubbing up against his pubic plates as they were revealed. 

When he was bare to the knees of the metal and ceramic plates he pulled the under armor suit down as well. The tight black fabric giving space for his own member to emerge. Swollen with blood and need. Wrex gave him a few rough pumps before bringing his fingers up to his face and sniffing them, the turian’s natural lubricant had a sickeningly sweet smell to it. He coated those same fingers with saliva and trailed them back down to start working at Garrus’ tight entrance. The turian flinched as the first finger worked past the tight ring of muscle.

“Fuck you’re tight,” Wrex told him as he worked. His mouth found the turian’s shoulder and throat again trying to distract him from the pain, it would become pleasure soon enough. “Relax Garrus…” he growled as he started trying to press a second finger in.

“Ah… that’s… that’s… fuck...” Garrus panted. “Hard to do… nuhnnn… with you doing that!” 

The Battlemaster smiled at the state he’d managed to get the turian into already, they hadn’t even started fucking yet and he was a writhing mess. At Garrus’ continued pants he finally released his throat, the turian wasted no time and he fell to his hands again gasping for breath. Wrex gripped his hip tightly with his free hand, thrusting his cock forwards to gain an ounce of friction against the turian’s behind, his quad resting just above the entrance he desired. 

“Wrex?” Garrus tried to gain his attention. 

“Hmm?” he grunted in reply. Busy enjoying the feeling of his fingers being crushed inside the turian as he made long strokes in and out of him. 

“Need a little more lube first, but I want more.”

“Mmmm…” he hummed this time. “Right, anything around here that’ll work better?” He didn’t stop thrusting his fingers in and out, if anything now he did it a little harder causing another a moan of discomfort from his companion.

“Medkit… unhn… fuck Wrex… medkit should have something.”

He nodded and pulled away. “At the very least it’ll have medigel to fix you afterwards.” He laughed but Garrus couldn’t help but think maybe he was being serious. 

Wrex quickly pulled a kit out from under Ashley’s work bench and dug through it. He turned to find Garrus on his feet removing the rest of his undersuit. He toss a bottle over, some kind of jelly if his omnitool translation was running correctly. “I thought I left you on your knees.”

Garrus looked up from the jar, a brow raised. “And what would you have me do there?” he asked with undertones that screaming _ fuck me _ .

“Oh, I’m sure I could figure out something for you to do with that mouth of yours.” Wrex placed a strong hand on his shoulder and lowered Garrus to his knees. Level with his dick. “You bite me and you won’t be getting any of that lube, got it?” he said with a growl, although he did rather gently run his thumb along the turian’s mandible. 

Garrus nodded and allowed Wrex to guide the back of his head closer to his member. “Turians aren’t exactly known for giving blow jobs. But I’ll see what I can do.” He opened his mouth to bring his tongue out, a tentative lick from base to tip to begin. From the tightening grip on the back of his head he took that as a good start. The sniper continued that slow pace and added his hands into it, one carefully grasping at his quad while the other wrapped around his base. 

The turian was thankful he left his gloves on as he tended to the tender skin, his talons were sharp and he’d rather not scratch anything in such a sensitive area. Not risk enraging the krogan standing over him. Garrus had no experience with this task, so he did his best to imitate what the asari that did it to him had done. He trailed his tongue along the underside and laved the head as he stroked firmly. The taste of the krogan’s precum wasn’t bad, though it was somewhat musky.

“Take me into your mouth,” Wrex demanded and he pulled Garrus in despite his attempted protest. All he could do now was open his jaw as wide as it would go and try not to bite down. He could feel Wrex against the back of his throat and he fought the gagging sensation. “That’s it, relax…” he hummed in his pleasure and started guiding the younger male’s mouth back before moving in again. Garrus’ hands moved to Wrex’s hips to try and steady himself, any slip now wouldn’t be good. “So fucking hot, unnhhgg…” he groaned.

Garrus growled low, voicing his displeasure as Wrex hit the back of his throat harder this time. That only seemed to make the krogan want more as the vibrations stirred a moan. It was time to take the advantage back, and that was the tool he was going to use to make it so. He growled again, deliberately this time, dragging it out and letting the vibrations drag a desperate moan from the krogan. 

Finally he pulled back panting. “You win this one turian. Stand up.” He reached a hand down and helped pull him up to his feet. Garrus passed him the lube back and he coated his fingers with it. “Bend over.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle as he complied, bending over the weapon’s bench. “Such a charmer, Wrex.”

“Shut up,” he said without malice. “You’re the one who just used your damn throat as a sex toy.” He placed his clean hand on the turian’s lower back to push him down against the bench. The other moved back to the male’s entrance. He quickly got one finger in and a second easily after another minute. “Better?”

Garrus moaned. “Much.” When he started thrusting back against the fingers Wrex pressed in a third, stretching him enough to allow his cock in after another few minutes of prep. Garrus was seeing tiny starbursts behind his eyelids, he’d never been stretched so far. But he would need it for what was about to come. “Wrex…”

“What is it?”

“I… I need… mmmm… fuck....”

Wrex dropped himself down to cover the turian’s back. “Need what?” he asked as he pulled one finger out and scissored the other two inside of his ass. Garrus couldn’t speak around his moan so Wrex asked again. “What do you need? Tell me.” He stilled his fingers and pressed his length against the other male’s lower back. “Is this what you want?” 

Garrus nodded furiously. “Yes. Want you inside me. Now.” Wrex laughed and removed his fingers.

“Demanding pyjak, aren’t you?” Garrus started to stand up, but stopped when Wrex placed a hand on his shoulders, pressing him down into the table. “Don’t move.” 

“Wrex…” he started but was cut off.

“Just wait,” he said roughly, pulling back. After a moment he was back and he pressed his slicked member against the still tight pucker. “Last chance, do you want this?”

Garrus turned his head to look back at the krogan standing behind him, all rigid lines and shoulders heaving with the effort of waiting. He nodded and pressed his hips back ever so slightly, the head of Wrex’s penis starting to slide in. “Right now... more than anything.”

“Good.” He replied and without delay pressed forwards, breaking through the tightness to press deeply into the delicious heat that was the turian’s ass. He moved in slowly, but Garrus still grunted and grabbed at the edges of the table, his teeth clenched together, a curse coming from his mouth as he tried to relax. “Breath turian,” Wrex hissed as he hilted himself. 

So far it was all pain, Garrus’ heart pounded in his chest as he willed himself to relax. Thankfully his partner understood and remained still behind him. The Battlemaster didn’t remove himself either, but that was alright, he could deal with it. One of Wrex’s hands slid from his hip to rub his lower back, with the tension being massaged away and something else to focus on Garrus finally took a strained breath.

“Better. Just breathe. It’ll pass.” After a moment the pain started to ebb away. “That’s it,” he coaxed and started rocking slowly. The hand that had been rubbing his back slid under the turian to rub his retreating member. The sudden contact causing Garrus to jerk back and press Wrex all the way into him again. This time he moaned in response and the older male knew he was ready.

The pace he set was slow at first, but firm. Each thrust inwards shaking the gear on the table, his chest pressed against Garrus’ back, his mouth teasing the flesh of the turian’s throat. “Nhg… Fuck Wrex… more…”

“Demanding,” he said in response before complying. Each thrust bringing the pace up a bit until he was fucking the turian in earnest. The sound of plates slapped with hide echoing in the cargobay. Soon he couldn’t maintain the pace in this position so he pulled back to stand up straight, one hand grabbing at the turian’s hip tightly while the other pressed him into the table with a palm in the centre of his back. “Uhhhnngg!” he roared in his pleasure.

“Spirits… ffuck… mmm…” Garrus could hardly make coherant words by this point. Each thrust pushed him closer to the edge. When Wrex suddenly pulled back on his fringe he cried out. The krogan used his fringe as a handle he fucked the male into the weapon’s bench, the new angle causing him to hit a new place inside Garrus, the pressure built faster now. Vakarian’s talons dug into the metal, he wouldn’t be surprised if there were dents later. “Wrex… damn it…” he began but was cut off by the roar as the krogan started cumming. 

The torrent lasted a good twenty seconds before he finally released Garrus’ fringe and the turian slumped forwards, a hand coming to rub his aching neck while the other supported him on his elbow. Wrex was still inside him and panting even as the cum started to seep out of his ass and down his legs. When he finally regained his breath he pulled out with a wet pop. “Dammit you’re so fucking hot Garrus.”

Laughing, the sniper shot him a hot look over his shoulder. “You’re not so bad looking yourself.” 

Wrex cuffed him lightly on the side of the head. “You know what I mean. Temperature hot.” 

Garrus carefully regained his footing and turned to lean on the bench beside Wrex, looking him straight in the eye when he said. “Riggggght. Temperature.” His voice laced with sarcasm. He grabbed a cleaning rag from the bench and was about to use it to clean up with when Wrex noticed he’d left his partner unsatisfied. 

“Let me,” he said taking the rag and dropping to his knees. The turian was still hard as a rock and he couldn’t help his hiss of relief when he felt the krogan’s wide and flat tongue caress his aching cock. His hands clenched at the workbench, fingers gripping tightly onto the underside as his breaths sped up again.

“Damn that’s good, don’t stop.” Wrex grunted an acknowledgement and applied a little suction as he forced one of Garrus’ legs up over his shoulder. This gave him access to press a finger back into his abused flesh and find the spot that made him see stars again. It didn’t take long before he was at the brink. “I’m going to… oh fuck like that… nhhhhh…” he started his warning and pressed a hand to the krogan’s shoulder to try and get him off. “Fuck I’m gonna cum… Wrex… I’m… ahgnngg…” 

The krogan smirked as the dam broke and he ripped the powerful orgasm from the turian. Without missing a drop he swallowed before pulling back, a smile plastered on his face. “That didn’t take long,” he mused as he stood up.  

“Your own… damn… fault Wrex…” Garrus panted in reply. “Spirits that was… wow.” 

He hummed and nodded as he began closing his pants. “Didn’t quite expect it to be quite that good. Whatever you were doing, that growling? Should be illegal.”

The turian laughed. “Maybe.”

“Was it worth it?” Wrex asked, almost hesitant.

Garrus immediately nodded. “Not sure Ashley will ever forgive us for fucking on her workbench. But yeah. Totally worth it.”


	2. Mass Effect 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After parting on poor terms when Shepard died the dynamic duo reunites on Tuchanka after two years apart. Wrex thought Garrus was dead but what happens when he and Shepard come waltzing back into his life?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now edited. ^_^

It happened again. And then a few more times as Wrex and Garrus fought alongside Commander Shepard and their ragtag crew against Saren and the Geth. The two warriors becoming akin to krogan brood brothers or turian hunting partners. Each there to satisfy the needs of the other when the time came. 

It was a quiet arrangement, neither speaking of it to anyone and each time they engaged they were careful to avoid confrontation with shipmates. There were times where they came close to discovery, a day when Ashley forgot her book in her locker and another when Tali crawled out of the engine room late in the night cycle. But for the most part it was easy. 

The Commander might have been catching on, noticing a shift in their teamwork on missions. More often than not he'd bring the dynamic duo with him groundside. He needed Wrex as a heavy hitter and Garrus as his tech expert and long range sniper. The three of them made an amazing strike team. The only way the trio could have gotten closer is if the human joined them in their night excursions; that didn’t happen. 

That same team, Shepard took with him to the final fight on Illos. The krogan and turian stood with him on the Citadel as they watched Sovereign burn. The celebration afterwards had been one for the record books. Enough Ryncol passed between the males to even rattle Wrex’s old bones. 

Later Garrus had been able to rattle one more old bone, but that was the end of their arrangement. 

Garrus went back to C-Sec with a recommendation for the Spectres. And Wrex went back to Tuchanka to rally for his species. As a brother in arms the Commander’s opinion carried a lot of weight, so much so that they both tried to change themselves for the better after leaving the crew. They kept in infrequent contact, more through Shepard’s influence than anything as he often messaged them.

When news hit that the  _ Normandy  _ had been destroyed they saw each other at the funeral on the Citadel. Garrus had taken the news hard and blamed himself for leaving. Wrex grieved as well, but as krogan did, silently. An argument ensued and that was the last they saw of each other.

Or it was... 

 

"Shepard my friend!" Wrex exclaimed, all but ignoring the krogan who had been making an appeal. Moving quickly from his towering throne to greet the trio before him. A young krogan and a turian in full armour braced on either side of the Commander.

"Wrex! It's good to see you," the human allowed the krogan to grasp his arm and returned the gesture in kind.

"You look well for dead, Shepard. Should have known the void couldn't hold you." 

Looking around, he grinned. "Looks like helping me destroy Saren and the Geth has worked out for you. Glad we didn't have to kill each other back on Virmire."

Wrex choked out a laugh, "Ha! You made the rise of the Urdnot possible. Virmire was a turning point for the krogan, though not everyone was happy about it." The krogan that had been in talks with Wrex glared as he stomped away, the battlemaster ignored him. "Destroying Saren's genophage cure freed us from his manipulation. I used that to spur the clans to unify under Urdnot.” 

The other krogan tried to butt back into the conversation, he got into Wrex’s personal space which set the Commander’s team on edge. "You abandoned many traditions to get your way. Dangerous." 

Wrex paid him no mind, only pausing long enough to heabutt him back into his place. "Speak when spoken to Uvenik. I'll drag your clan to glory whether it likes it or not." Wrex caught the slide of the turian’s hand away from his weapon, he’d been prepared to shoot Uvenik, ballsy considering he was a turian on a Tuchanka. Although, even coming here was a risk. It was no wonder that he was still wearing his helmet.

Shepard and Wrex passed a few minutes after that with a quick back and forth. Talking of what he'd been doing. What happened to the  _ Normandy _ . And finally what was going on with Grunt. The Battlemaster had eyed the mystery turian, but so far he didn't address him. It might be Garrus but the armor was wrong, it was a heavy set with a significant amount of damage to the right side. Expertly patched mind you, but still it didn’t seem like something his turian would wear. 

The situation with the youngling was easy enough to piece together. "There's nothing wrong with him. He's becoming a full adult." 

The turian couldn't resist the bait. "Adolescence?” he drawled in that familiar flanging tone that could only be Vakarian. “Can't we just take him to Omega and buy him a few dances?"

The wry quip left Wrex laughing. “Garrus? Is that you under that helmet, whelp?” He stood back up from his throne, he hoped he’d masked his relief well enough.

Garrus gave a single armed shrug, the left arm only. “Thought you’d never guess.”

“This should make for an interesting fight then, too bad I can’t join you. I’m not this youngling’s krantt, not yet. Shepard, if you’ll stand with him he can take the rite.” 

The Commander agreed to his challenge. “We’ll catch up later.”

Wrex nodded. “Go speak to the Shaman when you’re ready.” His eyes moved from Shepard to Garrus and back again. “You’ve both got some explaining to do. I’ll get the Ryncol ready.”

And so they left, the Battlemaster’s eyes not leaving the turian’s back until the trio was out of sight. He hadn’t expected to ever see Garrus again, let alone Shepard. He’d had his doubts that the turian was even alive and they hadn’t parted on good terms. Later he would hear the story, later he’d figure out why the turian hadn’t removed his helmet.

The Battlemaster finished his business and made arrangements for dinner and alcohol to celebrate the young krogan’s entry into Urdnot. It was customary to have a party and considering it was Shepard’s adoptive youngling? It warranted something grand.

+-+-+-+

News of their exploits came not long after the maw hammer went silent. Grunt and his krantt had killed the thresher maw. The blue-eyed krogan came barrelling into the hall with all the gusto he’d had himself many, many years ago when he had killed a thresher. Blood still spilled freely from under his shoulder pauldron, part of the metal and ceramic plate burned away by acid. 

“Urdnot Grunt!” he greeted the newly minted adult. “Figures Shepard would bring me the first krogan to kill a thresher maw in a few centuries.”

“Hehehe… my battlemaster is the strongest. He brings me strong enemies and I will destroy them all!” 

“Good boy, now quit bleeding all over the place and meet your new brothers,” he patted his clean shoulder and gestured to the group of Urdnot warriors behind him. Grunt passed Wrex as directed and was greeted warmly by the others, if you could call a headbutt warmly that is. The battlemaster turned his attention to the Commander. “Shepard! Figures you’d take one out on foot too, killed enough of the damn things in the Mako all those years ago. Probably easier without your erratic driving.”

“Hey! My driving…”

Garrus cut him off as he appeared in the doorway behind him, this time his helmet clasped under his arm. “Driving?” he asked with a laugh. “That’s what you call it?”

Shepard shot some quip back, but Wrex’s attention was on the turian. It was on the bandage that covered half his face, the burns that spilled out from under it and the crack in his opposite cheek that bisected his colonial markings. Without thinking he had closed the distance and shoved Garrus’ head to the side to get a better look at the scars, they weren’t new. “Thresher didn’t do that,” he said a little stupidly.

“Wrex, get off.” Garrus hissed quiet enough that only the battlemaster heard it. “They’ll see…” he glanced at the younger krogan behind him before dragging his eyes back to Wrex’s.

“Let them,” he replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

Shepard looked back at his friends, taking a moment to realise exactly what was going on between them before he left them be. “Grunt!” he called out loud enough that he pulled the attention back to himself. “Why don’t you tell your new pals about that time we broke Jack out of prison?” 

More than happy to comply, the youngling launched immediately into the tale. Occupying the other’s attention long enough for Wrex to shove Garrus back out the doors and towards an empty room down the hall.

No sooner did the door close, and lock behind them, did the krogan all but jump the turian. He shoved him hard against the wall, knocking the wind out of him. Garrus was tired from Grunt’s rite and didn’t fight him, not just yet. “What the hell happened to you?”

The turian looked away, ashamed. “I tried to catch a rocket with my teeth, it didn’t go well.”

“Obviously, this is recent though. What about this?” he ran a bare hand across the split in his opposing facial plate, when he had the time to drop his glove Garrus would never know. “It takes a shit ton of power to crack a turian plate.”

He huffed a bitter laugh. “Yeah. It’s my face remember?” The turian pushed his aggressor back. “Get off me Wrex.”

“No,” came the indignant reply. Stepping back in he reached for the clasps of the turian’s armor. Only getting through a few clips and dropping a few pieces before Garrus managed to get distance between them again. “Where were you? You let me think you were dead too, then storm back in here as though no time passed, as though nothing passed between us.”

“I was busy,” the sniper crossed his arms over his half armored chest. “Where do you get off lecturing me? You were the one who said he needed space after Shepard died. Fuck Wrex.”

“Needing space doesn’t mean you needed to drop into the void! Shepard was our brother,” Wrex moved forwards again, a hand grabbing onto Garrus’ forearm hard. “After all these centuries, all the deaths, you think I’d be able to handle it.”

“Wrex…” the turian started.

“Let me finish,” he growled in response. “Shepard wanted me to create a better future for the krogan, I couldn’t do that with you…”

Vakarian scoffed and pulled away once more. “And that’s why I left, damn it. You’re ashamed of me. Ashamed of what we had. You call me brother then spit on it with your krogan pride.”

“Garrus, just shut up and listen! Now that I’ve got the clans uniting we don’t need to hide us anymore. With Shepard back it can be as it was.” The taller male took a step forwards and as gently as possible he took the turian’s face in his hands, removing his visor carefully before adding. “You took down a thresher maw on foot, they won’t say anything. They can’t.”

The turian relaxed a fraction, enough for Wrex to lean into him and press their foreheads together. “It’s been a long time…” he said quietly, if they hadn’t been so close together Wrex might even have heard it. 

“I know,” he replied, a hand sliding down to his armor again. “I need to see them. See what the years have done to you.” And Garrus let his hands work, slowly but surely each piece of armor came off, each making a small clang as it hit the concrete floor. It wasn’t until he was down to his undersuit that he began to fidget. 

Garrus pulled away. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea.” 

The krogan started to shrug off his own armor, the red pieces quickly joining the blue ones already on the floor. “It was never a good idea, but your blood demands it as much as my own.” Wrex grabbed Garrus’ arm and quickly found himself with a face full of wall. The turian had gotten faster and a hell of a lot stronger. The old Garrus would never have been able to throw him around like that. More to himself than the turian, he asked. “What the hell?”

The Battlemaster struggled lightly for a moment and the ex-cop didn’t let him go. “What makes you think I want to go back down that road? I wouldn’t even have come planetside if Shepard hadn’t needed me.” The krogan shoved backwards and the turian released him, they stood facing each other for a moment before he rushed forwards. Garrus dodged. “Wrex. Stop.”

“No,” came his reply as again he moved forwards. Faster this time around. The Battlemaster was able to grab the ex-officer, but after a nasty swipe to his solar plexus he released his quarry again. “Dammit that actually hurt,” he complained, surprised. 

Vakarian shook his head. “It was meant to.” His right leg slid behind his left as he solidified his base, protecting his injured side. He was ready for a fight now, tired as he was from fighting in Grunt’s rite he wasn’t about to give in easily.

Wrex took in his posture before adopting his own fighting stance. “I want to see those scars. Show me!” he demanded as he move again. He met the turian head on, blows were exchanged, but this wasn’t the friendly spar that he was used to. No. Garrus was pissed off and had apparently learned a few tricks. Enough tricks it seemed as Wrex was the first to hit the floor.

“Stay down…” Garrus ground out through panted breaths. He knelt over Wrex with his left arm pressing the older male’s head into the concrete floor.

“You’ve gotten better whelp, but that doesn’t mean you can win.” Wrex thrust his hips upwards in an attempt to dislodge Garrus, only succeeding in allowing him a better perch over his chest. “Are you just going to sit there?” he asked after a few more minutes of struggling.

“Yeah. I am.” 

Wrex laughed. “Grew a fucking quad too over the years.” He relaxed back into the ground and waited for Garrus to let up a little before he asked. “What the hell happened to you?”

The turian’s eyes grew sad. “I let my feelings get in the way of my better judgement. It’s a long story.” He shook his head and pulled back a little further from Wrex. He was still sitting over the larger male’s waist, but the fact he had put more space between them didn’t go unnoticed. 

“Why didn’t you call me? I could have helped.”

He laughed, bitter. “Omega’s a long way from Tuchanka. I didn’t think I’d last a few hours let alone the three days it would have taken you to get there.” At the questioning look he elaborated. “Got cornered after my squad was killed. Spent three days picking off witless idiots funneling into my scope.”

“Omega?”

“Yeah.” He dragged a hand across his face, the weariness settling in. “That’s where I spent the last two years, doing what I could to make life a little better for the locals. Making sure people thought twice before murdering someone in the streets.”

Realisation struck like a maw hammer. “You weren’t….”

He nodded. “I was.”

Without warning Wrex thrust his hips upwards and threw Garrus off. A sharp clang echoed in the storage room as the turian’s head impacted a metal crate. He was stunned long enough for the Urdnot leader to reverse their positions. Just as quickly he pinned Vakarian’s wrists above his head and used his weight to ensure the male stayed down. “You are Archangel?” he asked incredulously. 

“Ow. Fuck Wrex, that hurt.”

“Answer me!” he growled in the younger male’s face.

“Yes. Damn it. I’m Archangel.” He struggled slightly against the krogan but found the hold sufficient to keep him pinned for now. “What the hell’s your problem?”

Wrex looked away a moment, his hold still firm. When he finally turned back the serious look on his face gave Garrus pause. “The new Urdnot does not condone Blood Pack activities. But for a time it did. We cut ties with them completely about six months ago. No member of Urdnot does business with Blood Pack now.” He hesitated. “But... we did Garrus. I met with Garm a year ago and gave him pointers for dealing with his vigilante problem.”

Garrus said nothing. It was worse than getting yelled at in Wrex’s humble opinion. A solid minute later he finally spoke up. “Well… aren't you going to say anything?”

He drew in a slow breath. “You didn’t know.”

The krogan scoffed. “No. But it could have killed you.”

“But it didn’t,” he said softly. “It took all three gangs and a traitor to take us down. You couldn’t have known Wrex.” He turned his head to the side and brushed his forehead against the krogan’s arm, not the most intimate location, but it would have to do seeing as he was still pinned tightly. 

Wrex’s free hand began working off the smaller male’s undersuit. The clasps easily parting under his experienced hands. Pausing a moment before pulling the fabric out of the way, he asked for permission. “Let me see what they did to you.” Garrus nodded slightly, his head still turned to the side exposing the burned side of his face.

Wrex took his time peeling back the layers of cloth, Garrus indulging him by sitting up so it could fall to his waist before he was laid back down. The krogan’s dark eyes traced every scar and pucker before his hands and mouth gave him similar treatment. The cultural significance wasn’t lost on Garrus, he knew krogan found scars attractive and they thought they were lasting impressions of their victories and survival. He couldn’t help his self consciousness, turian opinion on scars wasn’t so kind. Marks of failure. Defeat.  

“I want you,” Wrex said suddenly. He leaned in and pressed his forehead against the turian’s. “Let me have you.” All it took was a slight nod before Garrus found himself pulled off the ground and thrust, face first, onto the crate he’d smashed into earlier. 

Moments later his pants were pulled down to his knees and he felt Wrex’s damp fingers begin to probe at his entrance. The male’s mouth clamped down on his injured shoulder and he teased the tender flesh with his tongue and teeth. The discomfort lessened over the course of a few minutes, especially after Wrex added some real lube into the equation instead of saliva slicked digits. 

All Garrus could do was hold firm to the crate and allow himself to be prepared. Wrex would attend to his needs, of that he was certain, the other male wasn’t a selfish lover. Maybe he had a bit of a one track mind, but that didn’t stop him from caring. The turian was too tired to fight him anymore and if he was honest with himself he missed this too. 

“Fuck you’re tight,” the battlemaster said eventually. 

Garrus chuckled. “It’s been a long time.” Wrex forced a third finger into him and he hissed. “Yeah… fuck… too long.”

The fingers slowed down to a crawl even as the older male pressed them deeper into the younger. “Don’t tell me you’ve been celibate all this time.”

“I may not have been getting breeding requests like you,” he huffed. “Doesn’t mean I haven’t been getting any. Just not like this...” he couldn’t stifle the moan as Wrex passed over the sweet spot deliberately slow.

“Actually, you got three breeding requests today. After your showing in the rite.” Wrex replied casually, as though he was discussing the weather over kava instead of finger fucking his partner in a storage room. “Your sniper rifle got four,” he punctuated the number with a hard thrust that made Garrus cry out.  

“Damn it…” he panted. “Fuck… Wrex… I need...”

“Tell me.”

“I need you. Fuck me.”

Without delay he pulled his fingers out and soon after he pressed his cock against the smaller male’s entrance. He covered Garrus’ mouth with his hand. Before Garrus could protest he sheathed himself with one hard stroke. The muffled scream was covered mostly by the groan of pleasure. Garrus was shaking like a leaf, his claws dug nasty gashes into the metal crate under him. Wrex drew in deep breaths trying to regain his composure.

“You’re mine…” he said when he was back under control. “Fuck, you’re mine.” He drew back and thrust in again, hard. “You’re so hot… dammit Garrus.” He let go of the sniper’s mouth to hold onto his hip instead. He stood up fully and used his other hand to help his partner along. His free hand closed in a fist around Garrus’ member, pumping it a few times to bring him back to attention.

The turian was at a loss for words, his pants and groans filled the empty spaces between the sound of hide slamming into plate. It hurt. Two years since he’d taken Wrex and the bastard barely prepared him before slamming home. He knew it would get better but for those first few moments it had been nearly unbearable. He’d nearly retreated into his plates before his partner had noticed his discomfort and began to help ease the pain.

“Breathe turian,” Wrex growled into his ear just like the first time they’d been together. His thrusts slowed down to a steady rocking motion. Gradually he complied, tension seeping from him as he sagged into his arms. “Better, just breathe Garrus. Let me take care of you.”

At his small nod Wrex began to stroke him in time with his own thrusts. Alternating the pressure as he slid his hand up and down the younger male’s ridges, pressing his thumb into the more sensitive flesh at the tip before working down to his base again. 

“Nhng… that’s good…” Garrus moaned finally. He rocked his hips back into his aggressor’s, wanting it a little rougher now he was accustomed again. “Nuh... Wrex, more.”

Urdnot Wrex was never one to disappoint, so he complied. The thrusts sped back up to the earlier pace, but he put a little more strength behind them, hitting home each time. He started to reach the edge quicker than he’d planned. Angry at his own impatience, he wasn’t nearly done with his turian yet. No… he wanted to drag their long overdue encounter out. The whine of displeasure as he pulled out was worth the immediate chill of the room.

“What the hell?” Garrus asked turning to look over his shoulder even as Wrex continued pleasuring his painfully hard cock with a steady hand. Instead of responding verbally the krogan ripped his pants in two and pulled him off the crate to flip him over and slam his back into it. Before the vigilante understood what was happening his booted feet were on the krogan’s shoulders and Wrex had entered him again. “Oh… oh shit…” he moaned as his head fell back in bliss.

Their sexual position had never varied much back on the old  _ Normandy _ , it had always been Garrus’ back to Wrex’s chest. They may have alternated between the wall, the workbench, the showers and the floor among other things... but it had always been some variant of rear-entry. Well either that, or it had been one of them on their knees servicing the other. But this, face to face, it was different. 

Here Garrus could watch the expression on Wrex’s face as he slammed home. The shear loss of control as he grabbed hold of both his hips and rammed him. It was fucking hot. 

The turian’s hands scrambled for purchase on the crate, finding nothing to hang on to. Instead he put them under his fringe to support his head. His body elongated for his partner in a, for a turian at least, very erotic pose. Here he could also use the leverage to press his hips into the krogan’s and roll them as he clenched his ass hard enough to make Wrex moan. Loudly. 

In retaliation Wrex roughly began stroking Garrus’ length again. Slowing his pace just enough to ensure he had the precision to hit the bundle of nerves, connected to his internal balls, on every thrust. It wasn’t long before Garrus couldn’t handle the pressure anymore, his body went stiff as a board as he came. Swearing worse than most of the criminals he’d taken down over the years. 

The krogan didn’t take long after that. The heat and the tight ass getting the best of him faster than most krogan women would have been able to. His partner’s legs slid down to land on either side of his hips, allowing him to collapse onto Vakarian’s chest. He was breathing hard and uncaring of the mess he made between them. 

“That was… wow…” Garrus said finally.

Wrex chuckled. “What can I say?” he asked. “I missed you pup.”

The admission took him back a little, he looked away embarrassed. For Wrex to admit that… maybe he did actually care for more than just the sex. Hell, he’d been having sex. By the sound of it a lot. The Battlemaster didn’t need him for stress relief anymore, this had been a meeting of want rather than need. The realisation hit him hard.

“I missed you too,” he replied quietly.

Things would never be the same. And for once? That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!


	3. Mass Effect 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Defeating the Collectors and preparing for a war caused another rift between Garrus and Wrex. When they reunite on the Normandy things get a little hot and heavy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDDDDIIIITTTSSS!

Leaving Tuchanka hadn’t been easy. They were able to spare a few days on planet to handle Mordin’s protege and allow Grunt to fulfill some of his breeding requests. The adolescent krogan had been more than pleased with that task. Only after Wrex had explained the rules to him was he allowed into the female camp. He came back exhausted, with a permanent smile on his face, whispering something about _Death by Snu Snu_.

Garrus had gone along with the Commander and Mordin to hunt down Maleon, what they’d found upon discovering him had been sick. Shepard and Vakarian both had been disgusted with the salarian and his experiments, destroying the unethically obtained data. The sheer amount of information had been valuable, but it had come from so much death. The possibility of it helping cure the genophage wasn’t enough to keep it.

The Commander and his sniper had stayed planetside through the short few days, spending the nights with Wrex like they used to. Ryncol for all. They’d reminisced about the good old days and told stories of their time apart. Skipping over the nasty bits of Shepard’s death, Garrus’ betrayer and Wrex’s bloody takeover of the krogan clans. Instead focusing on one upping each other with heroics. Vakarian seemed to win with his story of three mercs downed with a single bullet, or he did until it came out the third man had tripped on the first and fallen from a height.

Their departure day came too fast and it was with a heavy heart that the battle brothers parted. Garrus needed to help Shepard with the mission against the Collectors. And Wrex needed to finish his work rebuilding his people. This time their parting was not so painful, but filled with a very specific type of longing, one of two warriors that knew they might not survive long enough to find each other again.

The battle with the Collectors took place just over a month later, after the _Normandy_ crew had gained a full complement and settled everyone’s affairs. Tali was found not guilty of treason, Thane reunited with his son, Samara seemed to keep to herself even more now that her daughter was dead, Miranda became less of a bitch and Liara, of all people, became the Shadow Broker.

With Liara’s help, Sidonis had been found on the Citadel. The turian still alive after Shepard realised why Garrus felt so betrayed by him. The squad hadn’t been the only thing stomped on by his treachery. But the thought of killing someone Garrus had loved was too much for the Commander to bear. He’d always had a soft spot for the romantic, not that he’d share that with his brothers. To keep Garrus’ sanity intact, he convinced him not to kill the male in cold blood, but to allow him his life to repent for what he’d done.

Lantar had filled a void within Garrus, not well of course, but his presence had provided him a stand in hunting partner. It had almost broken him when the older turian had betrayed the squad, shear force of will had allowed him his life after three days alone on Omega followed by a rocket to the face. That will only stemming from the need to prove himself worthy enough for an afterlife in the same place as his brothers.

As for their connections to Cerberus, the ties were quickly broken when the Commander had decided to destroy the Collector base. All those still loyal to the human supremacist group, not many, were dropped off on the Citadel and the remainder chose to help Shepard fight the Reapers. Everything was finally beginning to fall into place.

Commander Shepard had a strong and loyal team. A technologically superior frigate. A strong relationship reblooming with Liara. And a right hand man to help keep him on track. Things couldn’t have been going better when finally, after months of trying, the Alliance was finally willing to talk to him again. Admiral Hackett himself had contacted the Commander for help on a covert mission.

And that is when it all went to shit once again.

The alpha relay was destroyed and Shepard was in custody. His parting words to Garrus had been firm. “Make sure your people are ready. They’re coming, don’t let the turians ignore this threat. I’ll see you soon brother.” With that he’d patted his partner on the shoulder and left up the gangway to the _Normandy_. All the non-human crew left behind.

Garrus had been at a loss for how to begin this new journey. So he went to the last person he thought he ever would, his father. Castis Vakarian. He brought evidence and explanations and miraculously the patriarch had believed his son. He got an audience with the Primarch and was assigned a token team of operatives.

+-+-+

Reaper Advisor Vakarian was on Manea when all hell broke loose. The Reapers attacked, forceful and vicious, cutting off communications and disrupting supply lines before hitting colonies directly. It was unlike any military venture the turians had ever been involved in and they were all looking at Garrus, asking him to save them.

His worry for his brothers nearly outweighed his sense of duty to his people. He’d been in contact with Wrex. Even planning a visit, that would never happen now, before the attack. But he hadn’t heard from Shepard except through the grapevine, mostly Karin and Liara. There was no word from the other homeworlds, only knowledge that Earth had been attacked as hard as Palaven.

The advisor coordinated with turian generals and the Primarch directly. Nearly a week went by before the turians had their pre-war preparations properly deployed, but those preparations kept them afloat. Long enough that two weeks from first contact Commander Shepard arrived on Manea looking for the Primarch and wound up leaving with Victus and Vakarian on his ship.

Happiness overflowed when the brothers in arms reunited. Even more-so when the krogan agreed to join in for the summit, when Wrex came forward as the leader of the united krogan people. Somehow Wrex and Garrus managed to hold themselves back, only exchanging in a clasp of arms that was held, only slightly, too long.

Once they were able to get a moment alone however? They were not so subtle.

Shepard and Wrex had been sitting at the bar on the crew deck when Garrus showed. He’d been held back working with his Primarch for nearly an hour past the end of the day’s meetings. Victus had needed to assure himself that curing the Genophage and allying themselves with the krogan over the salarians was truly the right call. Despite Garrus’ relationship with Wrex he was able to play devil’s advocate well enough while still encouraging the turian leader to uphold his gut reaction. They would be helping to cure the genophage.

“Garrus!” Shepard had greeted enthusiastically, already three sheets to the wind despite his high tolerance since his resurrection. Drinking with Wrex tended to do that. “Too busy calibrating to join your brothers for a drink, eh?” he laughed and ducked behind the bar to grab a bottle for Garrus.

“Not my fault!” he replied crossing to the bar. “If anything it is yours, telling me to go warn Palaven of the Reapers. They gave me a task force to shut me up. Then after they hit? Suddenly they’re all looking at me like, _what now?_ ”

Wrex laughed and clasped his hand over the youngest male’s shoulder. “So you’re their _expert advisor_ now? We’re doomed.”

The turian gave him a friendly shove. “I just followed your examples gentlemen. Blame yourselves. Yell loud enough, in Shepard’s case. Or hit hard enough, in Wrex’s. And someone will eventually try to figure out what the fuss is about.” He took the offered glass from a still chucking Shepard and downed it. “Fuck, I needed that. Politics are not my strong suit.”

“Sure you don’t need something else?” the krogan asked suggestively.

The Commander laughed harder. “You’re a dirty old man, Wrex.” He looked at Garrus then back to Wrex then finished his drink in one swift gulp. “Well, enjoy boys. I’m off to make some little blue babies.” As he passed the krogan he patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t break him, we’ll need sniper support tomorrow.”

“You got it Shepard,” he replied with a smug smile.

Garrus on the other hand was indignant. “Hey! Why do you assume he’s on top?”

“Not hard to figure out there G. Sorry,” he shrugged and crossed to the door. “Oh and most of the ship’s asleep, try not to rock the boat too hard, eh?”

“Lock the door on your way out,” Wrex called after him and upon hearing an affirmative he finished his drink. As soon as the door was closed he was on Garrus. Pulling the sniper into a rough embrace. “Couldn’t get any fucking information about you or him or anyone since this damn war started. Glad you’re still kicking.”

Garrus put his arms around the Battlemaster and pulled him in tightly to his chest, despite the hardness of their armor. “Would have looked too funny to the Hierarchy if I’d reinforced lines of communication with the krogan before I finished with the council races, I’m sorry I couldn’t get a hold of you sooner.”

The krogan shook his head. “No… it’s fine. You did all you could. More than any of us if the initial estimates are right. Turians were hit as hard as the batarians and you’re still standing. Them? Not so much. You did good pup.” He pulled back slightly, enough to wrap one hand around the back of the ex-cop’s head and pull their foreheads together. “Missed you,” he said honestly.

The younger male had to swallow the lump in his throat before he could reply. “Missed you too. Damn this war…” his shoulders shook a little as the stress of it all started to break through. “When I hadn’t heard anything, I assumed the worst. You, Shepard, my sister and dad…” he pulled back, but Wrex kept his hold on the back of Garrus’ neck.

“Have you heard from them yet?”

He shook his head slightly and kept his eyes averted, taking a few moments before he spoke. “I was on Manea when the Reapers hit. They were on Palaven. I haven’t heard anything. Don’t know if I ever will at this point…” he paused before adding. “Was finally getting along with dad. He believed me about the Reapers. Without him I’d never have gotten the support we needed.”

“If this is the end then he’ll be proud of you. That’s what matters.”

Garrus sighed and leaned back into Wrex’s embrace. “Cold comfort, but you’re right. War’s taking a lot out of me and it has only just begun.” His hands slid up the older male’s chest, following the familiar swoops of armor. “We should really stop meeting like this…” he mumbled as his mouth moved to the exposed side of his neck. “Been too long again.”

Wrex’s hips shifted uncomfortably on his stool, an obvious sign of a building tightness under his codpiece. He stood up slowly, keeping the smaller male against his chest as he did so. Still allowing him access to continue working on his throat. Hands moved to armor and quickly began to find latches and clasps. Seals opened and parts started dropping, gauntlets and shoulder pauldrons, everything accessible. Once they’d exhausted their options they pulled apart and off came the rest, the larger parts that couldn’t be accessed when attached.

When they were finally bare, the krogan wasted no time before he pushed Garrus roughly into the wall. Grabbing his hands and holding them above his head with one hand in a show of dominance. “You aren’t wearing that bandage any longer,” he said pushing his turian’s head to the side so he could see the expanse of warped flesh and charred plate. “It healed well.”

Garrus shrugged as much as his pinned state allowed, not responding more than that. Wrex knew he didn’t like the scars. But Garrus knew that Wrex did. It was an odd sort of stalemate. Without warning the krogan trailed one hand across the marks, delighting in the turian’s shiver. He followed his hand with his tongue. The new skin was sensitive to the touch, much more so than the rest of his body, he couldn’t stop the moan.

“That’s it,” Wrex mumbled, nipping and worrying at his jaw. “Let me make them worthwhile.” His free hand smoothed down his chest, lightly ghosting over the damaged plates on his chest making Garrus shiver. By the time he got down to his partner’s protective slit he needed barely a caress before his member emerged into a waiting hand.

“Fuck Wrex,” Garrus groaned, his hips thrusting forwards. “Let me touch you.”

“Not just yet, you’ve been stressed and not taking care of it. When was the last time you got off?” His hand didn’t stop moving along the younger’s shaft, and the other gripped pulling hands a little tighter to ensure Garrus didn’t pull free too soon. When he didn’t answer he slowed down and gripped a little tighter, just hard enough to start becoming uncomfortable. “Answer me.”

Vakarian drew in a quick breath at the change in pressure. “Ah dammit… it’s been awhile.” Wrex stroked once more before stopping completely, waiting for a real answer. “Month… maybe two?” he said pressing his hips forwards into his partner’s, trying to create some kind of friction. “Please Wrex. I need…” he whinned.

“That long? I told you to find relief when you needed it,” he scolded while restarting his work on Garrus’ length. “You turians need to blow off steam or else you’ll explode. Or burn out. Or whatever. The stress is going to kill you.”

“Little hard to find companionship with scars like this on Palaven,” he responded quietly. “Fixing it myself doesn’t exactly hold the same appeal.” Wrex stopped again, ignoring the pained moan and looking up to catch the younger male’s eyes.

“You haven’t had a partner since Tuchanka, have you?”

“No.” He pressed his hips forwards again. “If you aren’t going to help me then get off. Quit fucking around, please. I need to get off so bad it hurts.”

“Stupid whelp. Going to kill yourself like that.” He let go of Garrus’ hands as he dropped to his knees. Without holding back he took the younger male into his mouth and began working one saliva slicked finger into his entrance. Garrus’ hands dropped to the older male’s shoulders, gripping tightly.

He moaned, his hips thrusting forwards into the hot mouth around him. It had been much too long and with the added stimulus he was quickly getting close to the edge, almost embarrassingly fast. Wrex’s mouth took him in completely, his flat tongue wrapping around the engorged limb, trying to pull more sounds from his lover.

Garrus saw stars as he came hard and fast, barely able to give the elder a warning before he bit down on his own forearm to keep quiet. As it was his release was noisey, without his makeshift gag he’d have yelled loud enough to be heard down the hallway.

It wasn’t until the aftershocks started to calm down that he realised Wrex was still working his entrance and licking his fading erection back to strength. He could taste blood in his mouth from the fresh puncture wound on his arm and smell the Battlemaster’s from where his talons had dug into his shoulder. Wrex looked up and caught Garrus’ eyes, still fogged from the intense orgasm. “Better?” he asked with a grin.

Garrus nodded and more moaned than said. “Much.”

Wrex took his bloody arm and licked the fresh wound clean. “Got a little excited I see.” He thrust a second finger in with the first and revelled in the slightly pained expression and corresponding twitch of his own cock. He was hard as a rock, he hadn’t gone nearly so long as Garrus had, but he missed his turian. Considering his position in the krogan hierarchy he constantly had breeding requests to fulfill. But a breeding request was quite a bit different than this, whatever this was.

“Your fault. It’s that damn mouth of yours. Always gets me hot…” he grunted as Wrex pressed in deeper and scissored his fingers. “Sorry about the shoulder. Hadn’t filed my talons lately.”

“You’ll make it up to me,” he said with a grin. He carefully pulled his fingers out and stood up, his erection now painfully obvious. Garrus mouthed over the damage and soothed the scratches with his tongue. It was superficial and already healing over by way of Wrex’s regenerative abilities. “Hope you’ve brought something to make this easier, you aren’t leaving this room under your own power tonight.”

“Yeah, I’ve got it. I’m not that dumb,” he said before moving to grab his thigh guard, the pocket containing a small bottle of lubricant he’d managed to procure. Wrex shoved him forwards against the bar before he was able to stand up and held him there with one strong arm. Instead of fighting he passed the bottle to Wrex who immediately slicked his fingers with it. His member rested heavily on Garrus’ back as he pressed two in right away and soon after worked on the third. “Someone’s impatient.”

Wrex replied by searching deeper for the sweet little spot that would make him instantly hard, make him just as needy as he was feeling himself. He knew the second he brushed it as Garrus tensed up and his breath caught. “That’s it Garrus.”

“Ohh… fuck. Ngh... not fair. Oh spirits.” He shook as Wrex pushed as far in as his fingers would go and he curled them into the soft wall of tissue between his entrance and his balls. Those weird internal testicles were good for something afterall. “I… I want you Wrex,” he ground out after a minute of the older male’s sweet torture. “Need you.”

“You think you’ve earned it?” Wrex asked, voice husky as he leaned down to whisper into Garrus’ ear. He pulled his digits out slowly, the younger’s hips following trying to keep himself full. “You need to work a little harder before you can have this,” Wrex pressed his tip against the now loosened pucker, pushing in only slightly before pulling back. “You’ve got to earn getting fucked. Understand?”

The turian nodded once, intrigued by the new game. “Tell me how.”

Wrex pulled away and moved to sit on the couch, reclining back easily on the large piece of furniture. “Come here,” he ordered and Garrus complied. “Get on your knees and service me.”

“Yes sir,” the turian replied with a smile. This was new, but so far he didn’t mind, it was nice not to be in charge again. The past few months since leaving Shepard he’d been in charge of a team and in the past few weeks he’d been advising generals and the Primarch himself. Letting go for a while wouldn’t be so bad. Vakarian dropped to his knees and played his part as he licked and nipped his way up Wrex’s calf to thigh. Carefully avoiding touching anywhere that the krogan actually wanted him.

It didn’t take long before Wrex began to get frustrated with his companion, groaning he gripped the back of Garrus’ neck and he pulled him to the base of his shaft. “Lick,” he said firmly. Garrus complied, opening his mouth wide enough for his tongue to snake out and wrap around the larger male’s quad. He was extremely slow and gentle, he doubted Wrex would be forgiving if he nicked him with his teeth.

He used one of his hands to wrap around the krogan’s shaft and he began pumping slowly, in long strokes. When Wrex lessened the grip on his head he got his mouth in on the action, licking from base to tip and back a few times before, very carefully, taking him into his mouth. He needed to keep his jaw wide open so he didn’t scrape his teeth along him. He used one arm to hold down the krogan’s hips and the other hand to caress his cock where his mouth wouldn’t reach. He growled low, the vibration sending Wrex’s head for a spin.

After a few minutes the blow job started to become painful for Garrus but Wrex grabbed his fringe when he tried to pull away, and forced himself a little deeper so that he hit the back of the turian’s throat. He gagged but Wrex didn’t let up, instead forcing him to relax and let his throat be fucked and used.

“This is a much better use for that smart mouth of yours,” he said eventually through a groan. “You feel so good, nhg.”

Just when Garrus thought Wrex was going to come he was abruptly pulled off. He stole a few deep gulps of air before looking up to see his partner doing the same, willing himself not to finish yet. His voice was rough but he spoke anyways. “You alright?”

He nodded and drew in another deep breath before opening his red eyes. “Fine. Forgot how good it feels to fuck you, that’s all.” Garrus shivered at his gruff tone. “There’s only one place I want to come tonight,” he pulled the turian off the floor and onto his lap, a knee falling to either side his legs. “And that is inside you,” to accentuate his point he grabbed the turian’s tight ass and squeezed.

Wrex’s erection brushed Garrus’ entrance and his hips jerked in response to the contact. “Like this?” he asked tentatively, they’d only been face to face once before and even then Wrex had been on top.

“I want to see your face as you take me. I want to watch you prepare yourself and then slowly slide down, an inch at a time.” He passed Garrus the bottle of lube and leaned back to watch.

The turian shrugged. “Yes sir.” He squeezed a fair amount of lube onto his hand and slid back so he could see Wrex’s cock as he slid his hand up and down the length. His other hand moved down his own body to give himself a few quick strokes before trailing around to press up into his own entrance, working two fingers into himself and then moving them in time with his hand around Wrex.

“That’s enough,” Wrex said after a minute or so. “Take me inside you.”

Garrus complied, taking his fingers out and carefully he began to seat himself on his partner’s member. Past the tight ring of muscle and then ever so slowly he inched his way down. Wrex was torn between watching his penis disappear and watching the younger male’s face. When Garrus halted halfway down he looked up to see the pained and extremely focused look on the turian’s face.

It was only now that he realised how much of an ass he’d been in the past just shoving his way in past the tightness. It had always turned to pleasure, but the initial sting could have been avoided with more preparation. Garrus started to force himself further down, his talons gripping hard onto the couch while trying not to tear the cloth.

“Garrus stop,” Wrex said just loud enough for him to hear. He complied, opening his steel blue eyes with an expression of sheer confusion.

“Why? What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I’m hurting you.”

He pulled back, he was nearly off Wrex’s lap as he stammered, “ I… I… I’m sorry. I should have known this wouldn’t work. I… I’ll just…”

“Garrus stop,” he repeated as he grabbed hold of the smaller male’s shoulders, forcing him to stay. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“It’s fine. It gets better, it’s just the initial bit,” Garrus explained, looking away.

He grabbed the turian’s chin to get his eyes to stay on him. “No it isn’t fine. I’m hurting you and this definitely isn’t the first time. This is just the first time I’ve made you do it to yourself.” He rubbed the younger’s cheek with his thumb. “I want you, but I don’t want to hurt you. What can I do to make this work?”

“Just fuck me, Wrex. I don’t care, it’ll get better once you’re in.” Garrus pulled away and moved to kneel beside his partner, ass in the air ready for him. And boy was it tempting for the older male.

“No, come back here and let me watch you so I know you’re alright.” He grabbed the lube and applied another coating to his slightly faded erection. “Please, I want to make you feel good.”

Garrus sighed and remounted his partner, kneeling over his thighs with his entrance exposed. “I took a missile to the face Wrex and I’d taken you long before that. I’ll be fine, just fuck me already.” He rested his hands on the krogan’s shoulders and pressed himself down only to be stopped an inch in by Wrex’s iron grip on his hips. Grip hard enough to bruise. “Spirits damn it, let go!”

“No. You’re so damn tense right now I feel like I’m going to snap you in half. Relax, alright?” he lessened his grip at Garrus nod and started moving in again slowly until he caught the edge of the comfort zone about a third of the way in. He pulled back and gave a few shallow thrusts, the turian releasing all his built up tension until the discomfort was gone. Wrex pushed a little deeper on the next thrust, as far as he could go before Garrus’ hand clenched on his shoulder.

Again he kept his thrusts shallow and slow, waiting for Garrus to be comfortable again. The turian leaned forwards and pressed his forehead against the krogan’s, his breaths deep and measured. Deeper still he went, twice more like that before he was able to hilt himself and even then that final thrust was pushing the boundaries of comfort.

“Better?” Wrex asked. Garrus could only nod, shaking as he was with his head of Wrex’s shoulder, his neck flushed and voice tight. “Take what you need, what you want.”

Slowly still Garrus raised himself on his knees and pressed back down in an experimental thrust. It seemed to work for them both as the older groaned and the younger’s breath caught in his throat. After a few more like that he was finally able to get a few words out. “So deep. Dammit. Oh sweet fuck.”

The Urdnot leader smiled, this was better. Much better. He wanted his partners to writhe in pleasure, pain was alright when asked for, but not otherwise. “That’s it,” he encouraged with a groan. His hips rising to meet Garrus’ each thrust. Soon the turian needed to bite down on his arm again to keep quiet, his movements becoming choppy as he went faster and harder. The pressure building as he neared orgasm again. “Bite down on me.”

Garrus released his arm, tiny beads of blood welling up from the punctures. “I’m fine, you don’t know what that would mean.”

“I do actually. Now mark me, you want to. I can see it.”

He slowed his thrusts, blue eyes staring at red as though they’d find hesitance or deceit there. Seeing none he confirmed. “You’re sure?”

He nodded and moved his head to the side. “Yes.” He pulled Garrus into his chest and forcefully restarted their coupling, slamming home harder than before, hips raised full off the couch, feet planted on the floor.

The younger stifled a shout as best he could. “Nhg… bastard,” he breathed when Wrex laughed at him. He resettled himself into a slightly more comfortable position over his partner, arms wrapping around the elder’s shoulders and mouth moving to his neck. He trailed his tongue along the junction between shoulder and neck just hard enough to make him tense in anticipation.

Wrex held Garrus’ hips firmly and thrust up into him, slow and deep, causing both of them to get closer to the breaking point. When he finally released one hip to wrap a hand around Garrus’ neglected length the younger bit down on the older male’s shoulder, hard. Easily tearing through hide and drawing blood.

Garrus came within seconds, the sensory overload blowing his mind wide open. Wrex followed a few moments later the tight heat becoming unbearable as his partner finished and rode out the last waves. When the older male regained his senses he noted that he was still buried deep inside his partner, only just starting to soften and slide free, and Garrus was still in his lap tending to the extremely sensitive bite on his shoulder with his tongue.  

“That was…” Wrex huffed in a breath. “Yeah…”

The turian hummed his pleasure against the krogan’s neck. “Speechless? That’s a new one.”

“Your fault,” he said without malice. “Damn turians and their damn magic mouths.”

Garrus slid Wrex free and sat back on his haunches as far as his spurs would allow. “You still ok with that mark? I can grab the medigel.”

He looked down at the fresh bite. “I like it,” he said before pulling the younger male in to press their foreheads together. He smirked, amused, when Garrus sighed in content. “Plus, you only live once.”

Garrus couldn’t help the laugh. “Unless you’re Shepard.”

Wrex joined him. “Right pup. Unless you’re Shepard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! A few more feels this time but I hope it was steamy enough for you.


	4. For the Cause

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before the Normandy team hits Tuchanka the anxiety levels on the ship are at an all time high. What's a turian to do?

As it turned out being ok with Wrex responding to mating requests on Tuchanka was very different to Wrex responding to advances from the Normandy’s new resident krogan, Eve. Garrus was not usually the jealous type, or he maybe it was that he had never had an opportunity to be. Either way… he was pent up and three days shipside was doing nothing to help his mood. 

The Normandy had saved Eve from the salarian homeworld and were currently enroute to the krogan’s. They would cure the genophage so that the krogan would help the turians who, in turn, would help the humans. It was all sort of roundabout but eventually, Shepard was adamant that they would defeat the Reapers. 

Wrex had been spending much of his time in the medical bay with the female and Mordin. Both to support his people and talk strategy with her and to help Mordin as required with the cure for the phage. He was a strong male specimen, exactly what the professor required for his tests. 

The turian on the other hand was spending nearly all his time in talks with the Primarch and when he wasn't there he was cooped up in the main battery, fixing what the idiot Alliance engineers had done to his beloved Thanix. The hours of constant work kept the men apart and slowly but surely the stress started to eat at him once again. 

They were just 14 hours out from Tuchanka, Garrus and Victus in the war room discussing their next set of fleet movements when an idea came to the younger male. “Sir,” he began only slightly tentative, “Commander Shepard is open to turian ship customs, do you need to blow off some steam before we hit the battlefield tomorrow?” 

The Primarch looked up from his datapad with his golden gaze, sub vocals hinting at amusement. “You've never asked me to spar before Vakarian. Something change?” His voice betrayed his temptation to take the other man up on his offer.

The sniper shrugged, single armed as had become habit since his injury on Omega. “If I'm stressed about this mission then you must be wound tighter than a caged varren.”

Victus laughed at that, the change in his demeanor drastic, “You've got that right.” He rolled out his shoulders, “The Normandy has a sparring room? I didn’t see one on the tour.”

“Not quite. The shuttlebay is stocked with training equipment, including sparring mats. Unfortunately no gloves that’ll fit so we’ll have to use our own.” He knew the older male was hooked now, they’d both benefit from this. “I’ll get set up.”

The Primarch agreed and started closing up his workstation as Garrus left. The younger turian nodded to Campbell and Whitmore as he passed through their space. He was a bundle of nervous energy in the elevator and barely managed to get into the battery before hauling off his heavy armor. It felt good to be free of it, even if only for a short while. He threw on a loose fitting shirt and kept his tight under armor pants and gloves on to work out in. Without further delay he headed back out into the mess hall. As he passed the darkened medical bay windows the door opened and Wrex stepped out. “Garrus, where are you headed?”

He stopped before rounding the corner to reply, “Shuttlebay, need to work off a little steam before tomorrow’s drop.” He reached around and pressed the call button, leaning on the wall waiting for the lift to return.

“I could help you out with that…” Wrex offered, his tone teetering on suggestive. “Eve’s resting for the night.”

Garrus bristled, he hadn’t meant to but the mention of  _ her _ and the offer based solely on the fact that  _ she _ was resting didn’t sit well with him. “I’m fine. Just need to hit something for a while.” The elevator doors started to open and he headed in, “Have a good night Wrex.”

The larger male appeared to be thrown off, replying only as the door closed. “Yeah…. ah... you too I guess.”

The elevator started its descent to the shuttlebay and the turian leaned back against the wall, crest tipped to the ceiling. He shouldn’t be feeling jealous like this, nor guilt for helping his Primarch prepare for battle. Spending the last few months on Palaven reminded him of his boot camp and hierarchy military years, of how lax the rules were around personal conduct. He’d gotten uptight during his C-Sec time, even worse on Omega. 

He’d let his feelings for Wrex get in the way of his health. Let himself get overstressed, nearly to the point of collapse. All because he didn’t want to spar with someone else, let alone sleep with them. Eve being on board was a blessing in disguise he figured, it showed him what he was to Wrex, stress relief, and now he knew that is all he’d ever be.

Upon arrival in the shuttlebay he pulled the mats out of storage, as he dropped the last one down the elevator opened to reveal the Primarch, also ready to work. He was dressed similarly to Garrus, loose shirt and tight pants. His clothing was less worn than Garrus’, obviously newer and in better repair. “That should do,” he said, assessing the space. “No referee I see.”

The scarred turian tilted his head in challenge. “Afraid I won’t know when to hold back, sir?” He headed over to a nearby crate and bent down to remove his boots. Victus did the same and pulled his shirt off while he was at it, as was traditional. Garrus hid his discomfort well as he removed his own and left all his scars on display. Wrex might appreciate them but he doubted the Primarch would see them in the same light. “Three count to pin or till the yield?” 

“Yield,” Victus replied taking position on the far side of the mats. His stance familiar and graceful, hand protecting his vulnerable sides with left foot in front of right. “On your ready.”

Garrus took his place on the opposing side, ignoring the other man’s eyes tracing lines he had not yet seen. His own stance was less traditional, less refined a style some would say. He rolled out his bad shoulder. “Ready?” he questioned and at the Primarch’s nod he used the command, “Fight.”

Both males moved forwards with startling speed, colliding in the centre of the mat. Arms immediately grappling in a hold, Garrus being stronger quickly shoved the older man back a few paces only to be pulled forwards and kneed hard in the stomach. He hit the ground with a solid thud. But he didn’t let that slow him down, swiftly he was rolling back to his feet. 

“Done playing?” the golden-eyed male taunted.

Garrus laughed, the first real laugh he’d ever made in front of his superior. “As the humans say, be careful what you wish for.” Victus nodded once and came at him again, plates cracking as their chests impacted, the sound echoing. 

Vakarian had the upper hand this time though, his elbow colliding with the side of the Primarch’s face staggering him. He moved towards Garrus in his haze only to have his own move used against him. The younger pulled hard on his arm, using the momentum to trip him up over his outstretched leg. Shoulders first, the Primarch hit the mat, knocking the wind out of him. 

“Oh, I’m done playing,” He chuckled as he moved in on the turian, not letting him regain his footing on his own. Instead the ex-detective pulled him up fast and grabbed him in a standard choke hold, reaching up as the older male was just slightly taller than he. 

Victus struggled only a moment before elbowing his aggressor hard, the hold loosening just enough for him to gain the space to throw Garrus up and over his shoulder. Before he could move in for a pin the younger turian was on his feet again, pulling back to give himself enough room to breathe. The older took a few steadying breaths as well, and just when his opponent least expected it he rushed him. 

Garrus was thrown back, but he twisted and threw himself to the ground this time. The momentum from the twist, with a kick thrown in for good measure had Adrien sailing back to his side of the mat. Landing hard on his keel, arms just barely making sure he didn’t hit the floor face first. Garrus followed and got onto his back, arms pulling him into a hold in seconds.

After a few moments of struggling Victus tapped the floor, “I yield.” he ground out. 

The younger immediately let go and pulled himself up, holding a hand out to help the elder male up. “Alright sir?” he asked. He figured they might not go long but it felt good to get the blood pumping. 

“Fine, fine. Just wondering where you learned that. Not in the hierarchy I assume?” he baited taking a few steadying breaths.

“The twist?” he asked and at his nod he explained, “That’s a human move. Shepard downed me with it a few times before I learned how to counter. Pyjacks are flexible buggers, it took me a long time to learn.”

“Another go then?” Victus asked. 

Garrus moved to his side of the mat, “On your ready.”

“Fight!” he commanded and they moved forwards again. This time exchanging blows in the centre. Neither gaining the upper hand quite as fast as last time. They were hitting hard enough to feel each punch and kick but not so hard as to bruise or crack plate. When they broke apart they were both breathing a little harder, the Primarch more than his Advisor. “Feels good doesn’t it?”

The younger male grinned, “It does. Been a long time since I’ve spared like this.” He moved forwards again, not relenting this time. “Good to get back to the roots.”

Victus chuckled in agreement before deciding it was time to change the game. With a swift movement he feigned low and hit high, striking the damaged side of his advisor’s face hard. Garrus was dazed a moment, long enough for Victus to move in and get to the slightly shorter male’s back. He held him tightly, moulding his body to the harder one in front of himself. One arm wrapped around the younger’s throat and the other around his waist. 

Then surprising Garrus completely he licked along the length of his mandible, teeth capturing the pointed end to nip as the arm around his waist squeezed to entice more than injure. “There’s more than one way to work off stress,” Victus mumbled in his ear, his hips pressing forwards to ensure his point was understood. Completely unnecessary considering the tongue, but Garrus was sure what was going on now.

He growled, voice teetering on suggestive, “Are you suggesting would should move straight to the tiebreaker?” He tried to gain some distance but was held tighter against the strong chest behind him.

“And what if I am?” 

Garrus, having had enough of the position, twisted his hips and dropped to a knee, effectively destabilizing Victus before he threw him over his shoulder to the mats. Plates colliding with mat and metal deck plating echoed in the large shuttlebay. The younger kept the momentum going as he mounted the Primarch, a leg on either side his hips. His hands trapping the other’s, pinning them down. His mouth moved to the older man’s shoulder, close enough for his breath to ghost over his shoulder, without actually making contact. “Why me?” he asked innocently enough. “You’re the Primarch of Palaven. You can have anyone you want. If it is a matter of convenience...”

“No.” Victus cut him off sharply. Garrus leaned back on his haunches as much as his spurs allowed and released the other male’s hands, “Convenience is not important. We’ll be at the Citadel soon enough and I am civilized enough to wait. You are a prime partner; strong, battle hardened, a strategic genius, easy of the eyes.”

He couldn’t help the self deprecating laugh, “Now you’re fucking with me.” He pulled back and stood up, moving to the crate where he’d left his shirt. 

“If you’d let me finish,” he replied, voice tight. So Garrus stopped, his back still to the other man. “Every soldier has scars. Yours are more evident, that’s all. I can look past them and see that you were a handsome turian. Those eyes alone solidify that.” He took a few paces, putting himself back into Garrus’ space. Arms wrapping this time in something more akin to lovers than fighters. His voice was low again, thrumming deeply as he continued, “Let me appreciate you for all you are.”

The words hit him a little hard, and he focused more on the  _ were handsome _ than the eyes comment but he also understood that if he ever wanted to be with another turian again he’d have to get over it. He should be happy someone his own species wanted him at all, let alone the Spirits damned Primarch. “Alright,” he responded finally. Some of the rigidity falling from his shoulders. 

“Good,” Victus said as he pressed a knee into the soft tissue behind Garrus’, forcing him down. The younger man caught himself on his hands and rolled away, quickly moving back to a standing position. Obviously they weren’t done sparing yet. 

“One more round to tie it up?” Garrus asked, regaining his fighting stance. “That’s two for you and just one for me.”

The slate grey turian laughed, “I think it might be the other way around.” Victus adopted his own stance, with a nod he started their match again, “Fight!”

They came together in the middle of the mats again. Fists flying, elbows moving in quickly behind knees and kicks. This time they were working to sort out who’d be dominant during their extra curricular activities. By all accounts it should be Victus, but that didn’t stop the younger turian from making him work for it.

The sound of the elevator moving caught Garrus’ attention first, cybernetically enhanced hearing would do that to you. Victus took the second of distraction as an opening and he quickly took his advisor down, plates cracking against metal deck plating as they’d moved too far away from centre. He was on him fast too, moving up with the speed only a seasoned turian soldier would have. 

It seemed as though, in his sparring partner’s mind, the fighting was over. Intentions were made quite obvious as he pinned his partner’s arms above his head with one hand and began licking and nipping at the younger male’s throat. Garrus, however, was more concerned with who was about to step out of the elevator. He barely managed, “Victus the lift…” before the scent of krogan caught his nose. 

_ ‘Of course it was Wrex… who else could have found the perfect moment to walk in on them. Half naked, aroused and on top of one another.’ _

“Vakarian!” the Battlemaster called out, the sound of his boots on the deck amplified by Garrus’ position. “Let yourself get rusty on Palaven.”

Two taloned feet were planted hard onto the deck and the sniper thrust his hips upwards, throwing the Primarch off himself with ease. “Wrex…” he started, clamping down on his sub vocals and leaving them flat.

“Ah! The whelp is still using those damn hips of his.” He held out a hand to the Primarch, who took at and allowed the larger male to help him to his feet. “Shepard taught him that. Damn pyjacks.”

The slate grey male laughed, “I was wondering. Nice to see you Clan Leader. What has you up at this hour?”

“Wrex is fine. We drop on Tuchanka is a few hours, don’t think many are actually sleeping tonight. Saw Vakarian making his way down here a while ago, thought he might want more than pads to hit. I see you've got that covered."

Garrus had just found his feet again and he tried to diffuse the situation, “Wrex we were…” unsuccessfully as the krogan interrupted him. 

“Nice to see there is an extra body willing to put up with the abuse, on the first  _ Normandy  _ it was mostly Vakarian and I sparring. Shepard joined in once in a while, but not enough. Maybe we’ll have a go after this shit’s over,” he laughed and Victus joined him. 

“Perhaps we should. Until then, have a go at Garrus,” he gestured to the younger turian. “He’s probably got a round or two left.”

Wrex smirked and started to unfasten his standard armor plates, “Think that’s just what I need. See how much he’s learned in the past year.”

“Enough to put you on your ass,” the youngest male replied a little cold, arms crossing over his keel.

The krogan nodded and sat down to remove his boots, “We’ll see about that.”

The Primarch golden gaze shifted between the soldiers, heavy mandibles pulling into a turian grin. “I’m tempted to stay and watch, but I have things to attend to. Another day perhaps.” He grabbed his shirt and boots before heading towards the lift. When he was nearly there he turned his head to look back at his Advisor, the inflection and undertones overt. “Garrus I’ll see you once you’ve finished here.”

“Yes, sir.” he replied curtly, near emotionless. Victus only nodded once before the doors closed. 

Garrus let out the breath he’d been holding and turned to face the krogan, “Wrex, let me explain-” 

“What’s there to explain?” the battlemaster asked. “You two were about to fuck, and I walked in on you.” He took a step towards the much younger male, fist following with the pace just slow enough for the surprised turian to dodge. “Now put your hands up and let me work off some stress, eh?”

Fists closed and hands came up to cover the vulnerable side of his face, “You’re not mad?” He asked after a few light blows. 

The battlemaster’s laughter echoed in the cargo bay. “No. I told you to work off your stress when you needed to. We aren’t exclusive. Can’t be.”

Garrus nodded once before moving back in to throw a punch of his own, “I’ll admit, I never really pegged you for the sharing type Wrex.” He grunted as the krogan started moving faster and landed a hard punch to his stomach. “Ouch… what was that for?” He backed off a few paces, grabbing the tender spot.

“Never said I was the sharing type. Makes my blood hot. Thinking about you with him…” he growled low and came at Garrus harder still, the smaller male only barely holding his own against the larger. “Want you for myself,” he huffed out between strikes. 

As the older male tired Garrus was able to regain some ground, after a moment he’d turned the tide and was making him back up. With a rather unsportsmanlike maneuver he managed to trip him up and was straddling the larger male in seconds. “Who said I’m pleased watching you with Eve?” He rolled his hips down into the obvious erection Wrex was sporting. “Turian’s don’t like to share.”

The fight was over as fast as it began, suddenly hands were caressing instead of punching and their bodies moved together instead of against one another. Wrex’s tongue worked its way along the turian’s jawline, hands stroked the hard plate and muscle of his chest and shoulders, fingers scratched along the long scars that marred his body. When Garrus moaned it was wonton. Pent up and frustrated.

Without warning he was shoved off the older male’s chest. Barely time to grunt,  _ what the hell? _ Before Wrex was on his feet. 

“You’ve got your duty to do. Can’t take me first. Would be too obvious. My scent’s already all over you.” The words were clipped, sentences short. Before Garrus could even attempt to argue he was pulled to his feet and a hand clasped on his shoulder. “Make sure you scream the right name, got it?”

Garrus’ breath caught, he could hardly nod in answer. This was actually happening. He had permission to bed the Primarch.  _ Anything for the cause _ . A warped version of the turian saying, that was certain. 

His tone was gruff when he finally found his words again. “Can I help you out first?” His hands worked down the larger man’s hips, one working to brush the straining length between his thighs. He nipped at his throat, voice vibrating. “You said you missed my mouth.” Glacial blue eyes met fire red, Wrex merely sighed and gave a slight nod. Without further ceremony the turian dropped to his knees, pulling at the tight under armor pants to expose his erection to the cool air of the cargo bay. The krogan hissed at the sharp contrast between the air and the mouth that was immediately on him.

As always the turian was careful to keep his teeth away from the engorged member in his maw. Only using the tips of them to graze the tougher hide once Wrex was lost to the sensation his rough mouth created. The lithe muscle of his tongue easily curling and twisting to find the best ways to please his partner. 

It didn’t take long before Wrex was holding Garrus’ head still so he could make his own shallow thrusts, each time trying to move a little deeper into the warm cavern that was his partner’s mouth. Even as he made the younger male gag he didn’t let up. Garrus didn’t try to stop him either. They both needed this moment of control and lack of it, respectively. 

When the krogan came it was quieter than usual, more a grunt than anything spectacular. Garrus tried to take it all down but his partner’s quad was too full as always and some spilled out the sides on his mandibles and down his chin. Wrex pulled the smaller male up and wrapped his arms around him, bringing their mouths together to clean up the mess.

Once finished, he pressed his forehead to the younger’s. “Remember you’re mine. He can play with you, but remember who you belong to. Who makes you scream. Got it whelp?” Garrus nodded against him. “Good. Now go wash the worst of my scent off you and please your Primarch. We need everyone at their best to win the damn war. Including you two.”

“You make it sound so…” Garrus hummed as he pulled his shirt back on. “I don’t know. Perfunctory, maybe?”

Wrex chuckled. “That’s because it is. No go before I decide I don’t want to share anymore.” He nodded and headed for the elevator, the door opening a few seconds later. Garrus looked back and found Wrex was watching him as he put on his boots. He was finally able to read the look the krogan was giving him. 

Wrex was jealous. 

There was nothing to do about it though. Sadly for them both. Wrex was needed to repopulate his species. Garrus was needed to help clear the head of the Primarch before battle. Both necessary tasks. Both arguably enjoyable tasks in the face of a war. But nonetheless it meant not spending time together. Not fucking each other. It was a strange sort of fate, but it had been a long time since any of this had been normal.

The bathroom was blissfully empty when the lone turian entered. He turned the water on to heat as he grabbed his small bag of toiletries. His soap lathered quickly on his already warm plates and the mouthwash burned only slightly as he swished it around to remove Wrex’s taste. His shower was done in less than two minutes, he was dry and dressed in five more after that. 

Still, it wasn’t surprising when he stepped out onto the crew deck that the Primarch was waiting for him. He’d taken up lodging in life support. The air there, like the main battery where Garrus took up roost, was much warmer. It was also more private than crew quarters and Victus obviously needed some space when things got rough. He was in charge of the entire turian fleet after all. 

“Vakarian,” he greeted with heavy mandibles pulling into a grin. “Thought the clan leader might have beaten you a little too hard considering how long you were taking.”

Garrus gave him an exaggerated shrug, “Well… he tried. But I’m always up for a challenge.” The darker turian stepped inside his room, ushering the younger male inside as he continued, “In any case, I figured you would prefer your bunk not reek of krogan.” 

“True,” he conceded before getting down to business. “How far are you willing to take this? I am happy to take all that you’re willing to give. Spirits know I need release…”

The younger turian cut him off, stepping closer to him, close enough to put a hand on his superior's shoulder. “Tonight I am yours. It is my honor to serve the Primarch. It is my honor to help a friend and... I do consider you one.”

Victus nodded once, sharp and sincere. “Glad to hear this isn’t just out of duty. Your want for this makes it all the more palpable to me. My preference is to have control, Garrus. Have you been with a male before?” he asked taking a pace backwards and slowly starting to circle around his soon to be partner. The sniper nodded. “And it was enjoyable for you?” 

“It was. I’ll receive without issue.”

Victus stopped midway through his second circle, one hand resting on the younger’s hip and the other sliding along the front of his collar to ghost over his throat. “Anything to avoid? Things I should be aware of?”

He drew in a shaky breath, “No bindings. Holding and pinning is fine but my preference is nothing I can’t get out of if I really wanted to.” The Primarch agreed with a nod into his shoulder as he licked up the side of his throat, “Pain has it’s uses but only for the sake of it isn’t my preference either. Otherwise? I’m good. Anything you’d like to mention?” His breath hitched over the last few words, Adrien content to make him squirm.

“You will call me sir or Primarch. You will obey my commands to the best of your ability. If you are uncomfortable or want me to stop you will say so. I like to be in control but I also want my partner to enjoy themselves. You will not cum until I say you can, am I clear?”

“Crystal, sir. How many times would you like release?”

Adrien huffed a laugh, “I’m not as young as I used to be.” He ran the hand that had been on Garrus’ hip across his midsection. Talons leaving lines behind but not piercing the skin. The sudden thought that Garrus was a mere three years his son’s senior dawning on him. He shoved that thought away, unnecessary. They both wanted this, damn their ages. “I’ll settle for once but if you think you can drag more than one from me I won’t complain.”

The younger man rolled his hips back into his elder’s. “I’ll take that as a challenge then, sir.” His hands moved from his sides where he’d been holding them at attention. One taking the hand Adrien had on his stomach and pressing it harder into the tender skin of his waist before using it to pull his shirt up, exposing his muscled midsection. The other finding the dense bundle of nerves behind the Primarch’s head and pressing gently into them, causing a groan. He ground his hips back and found it was simple to gain a positive response. 

“Been in this position before then Vakarian?” he asked through a groan. The tight young male knew exactly where to press to get the reaction he desired. Though scarred, his knew his body was still very attractive by turian standards. All muscle and angles. Too thin, but years of wearing heavy armor had filled him out deliciously. 

“Similar enough.” He rolled his hips once more before pulling away and turning to face his partner, “I’d like to make you feel good. Provide the release you need, may I? Sir.” 

+-+-+-

Victus nodded and cleared his throat. “Have you played this game before?”

“No. But the dynamic is easy enough to grasp.” He took hold of the older man’s hips and walked him back to the edge of the bed, sitting him down, before trailing his hands to the edge of the Primarch’s pants where his shirt was tucked in. He pulled it free and carefully ran talons along the seam before dropping to his knees and following the path of his talons with his tongue. 

Adrien hummed when he found a tender spot at the swell of his hip, his plates started to loosen and the man had barely started touching him. He was either more pent up than he first thought or Vakarian knew exactly which buttons to push. Maybe a combination of the two. By the time talons had undone his belt and a tongue probed at his sheath he was seconds away from emerging. His hands caught Garrus’ shoulder. “Enough teasing.”

“Yes sir,” he replied with a smile. Agonizingly slow he unbuttoned the pants and with one more swift lick he had the Primarch’s member in his face. “Have you been outside species before?” he asked as he worried the sensitive spot on the Primarch’s hip and palmed his erection. 

“An asari once, been a long time. Why?” 

“This will be better,” he said. Voice sure. Movement ceased. “Trust me Primarch?” Adrien nodded, and Garrus wasted no time, his mouth immediately went to work. Rough tongue licking from stem to tip causing the older man to gasp in surprise and pleasure. He tried to pull back, reproach on his lips but the sudden feeling of being engulfed by the younger man’s hot mouth had his head spinning. 

Without his consent his hips thrust forwards into the cavern that engulfed him. His moan louder than it should have been. His control of the situation completely sapped away. Talons dug into shoulders and hips pressed in of their own accord. Spirits he was right, this was better. He’d never be able to look at a turian mouth the same way again. 

“Damn... “ he breathed finally. He opened his eyes, not remembering when he’d closed them, only to look down at one of the most erotic things he’d ever seen. One of Garrus hands was wrapped around the base of his cock, the other holding his hips to keep him steady. He’d been initially focused on the task at hand but when he felt eyes on him he looked up and pulled back enough to let his blue tongue be watched as it curled around the head and caress the shaft again. 

Garrus locked eyes with the Primarch for a few more agonizing seconds before engulfing him completely in his mouth. The back of his throat soft in contrast to the harsher angles of his mouth. He went at him harder now, faster than before, only keeping his speed slow enough to ensure his teeth stayed well back from his partner’s shaft. His own erection becoming painful as it strained to be free of his sheath and pants. The cloth not allowing him release, nor friction, even as he ground his hips into the air in front of him. 

“Garrus… Garrus I’m close…” Adrien warned. Though his hands didn’t move, if anything the hold grew tighter. His want to finish soon obvious. How easily Garrus was able to make the Primarch mould to his mouth made him hotter still, he hummed in acknowledgment which made the pleasure increase ten fold. “Oh Spirits,” he groaned out. 

The blue marked turian didn’t tease or draw it out any longer than needed. And when Adrien came he accepted it gladly, and held the man up as he slumped and relaxed. “Oh fuck yes…” he hissed through the aftershocks. Garrus kept licking his fading length until he became coherent again, “Where did you learn that?” he asked, breaths uneven and strained.

He grin was smug as he looked up at his superior, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” 

“Fine, but tell whomever it was to patent it. I’d never through a turian mouth, what with all our teeth, could be so proficient at that. And the humming!” his cock twitched in memory, “Spirits.”

“What else can I do to serve you, Primarch?” the turian advisor asked, sliding his tongue along the curve of the elder’s hip as the older man stood up.

Victus grabbed him by the front of his tunic and pulled him up. “Disrobe,” he ordered and Garrus complied. Taking a step back he slowly undid the clasps of his shirt, taking his time pulling it off, exposing his well muscled form inch by inch. The Primarch couldn’t help his groan of anticipation, this time appreciating the view. His eyes were glued to the slim waist, accentuated by the younger turian’s well defined shoulders and arms. Impossibly lean.

Vakarian took a half step back to kick off his boots. Hands toying much too slowly with his belt, even though his own erection was becoming painful being trapped. When his pants finally dropped and he stepped clear of them, Victus took control again. Done with being teased.

He walked Garrus backwards until his back hit the glass wall separating the room from the drivecore. He took the younger man’s hands and pinned them above his head with one of his own. The other Victus used to finally touch the younger turian. Talons ran across tight muscles and hard plates, lightly at first before leaving angry blues lines in their wake, only barely stopping short of cutting him open. 

The turian advisor watched his superior’s face as his eyes followed his talons, he was obviously hot with the idea of marking him up a little. When Victus started to focus more on his unplated waist he couldn’t stop the moan, wonton in its ferocity.

Adrien’s golden eyes met Garrus’ blue ones. “Enjoying yourself?” he asked. And when Garrus only nodded in reply he slid his hand up to grab his junior’s jaw. Forcing his head to the slide as he licked a line up the now forcibly bared throat. “Answer your Primarch.”

He moaned his reply, “Yes....”

Teeth scraped at the thinner skin over the younger man’s pulse point, “Try again.” he hummed.

“Yes, Primarch Victus.”

“Better.” He said without letting go of his charge. Instead he pressed him harder into the window, his clothed chest and hips pinning the slightly shorter man in place. Their difference in height accentuated by Garrus’ lack of boots. He liked… no… he loved this powerplay. Having a turian of Garrus’ strength at his mercy. His jaws inches away from his partner’s throat. “Do you want me?” he asked, consent still important.

“Yes, sir.” Vakarian replied without hesitation this time. Hips trying to garner more contact. 

He smiled, “Good. Then beg me for it.” He released the younger’s jaw, hand moving to give a few strokes to his own rapidly hardening member instead. He pulled back enough to see the conflicted look on Garrus’ face. “Too good to beg?” 

“No, sir...” he began but Victus cut him off.

“I understand Garrus. You’ve never had to beg for it before.” He released his hands and took a step back. “Lie down on the bed.” The younger male compiled, a little wary. “I’ll make you wish you’d begged me earlier. Remember my rule? You aren’t allowed to finish until I say you can. Am I clear?”

Garrus nodded, “Yes, Primarch.” Victus dragged his hands up again and pinned them above his head before he resumed his ministrations from earlier. This time touching his waist and phallus more frequently and with just the right amount of pressure. “Oh… fuck...” Garrus moaned.

“Better,” Victus said into his skin as he dug his teeth into the edge of his hip spur, ignoring the slightly pained gasp from his partner. “But not enough. You won’t let me tie you so I’ll only tell you this once. Do not move your hands, understood?” A vigorous nod was enough this time, so he let go of the younger man’s wrists and redoubled his efforts on the lean body below him. 

Soon enough his tongue was at the young man’s entrance, causing him to flinch and almost move his hands. He stopped just short but his cock twitched and his hips rose to meet his Primarch’s hot mouth. “Please…” he whined, “Oh please more…” he bared his throat and closed his eyes. 

And that’s when Victus stopped. Pulling away completely.

“What the fuck?” exclaimed the very sexually frustrated turian. He opened his eyes and looked up to see Victus smiling down at him, smug as he stroked his own cock. 

“I want to hear you beg for it, remember?” 

Realisation was visible on Garrus’ face and he nodded, even as he did as asked and kept his hands still above him his hips writhed on the bed, trying for any kind of friction he could get. His voice was low and gravelly as he relented, words slow and deliberate. “I want your cock so badly, Primarch. I want you to hilt inside me, stretch me open. Fuck me raw.”

Adrien moved over top his partner, kneeling between his legs and Garrus didn’t waste any time wrapping those same legs around his partner's slim waist. “Better.” One hand went back to holding his partner’s wrists and the other his used to guide himself to the younger’s entrance. His slick member sliding against him. Edging in ever so slightly before backing off. “Tell me, Garrus. Do you want me?”

His control crumbled. This time as he begged the words ran together, “Fuck Adrien. Please. I want you, need you. I can’t take it anymore. I am just so fucking horney right now and I need you inside me. Please...“ the ecstasy was palatable as Garrus nearly screamed when he was split in two by the speed of Adrien’s first real thrust. 

Hilted fully inside Garrus’ ass Victus groaned, nearly coming again right then. Instead he bit down on the old scarring on Garrus’ shoulder. Teeth penetrating plate and drawing blood. Garrus arched against him and shook with the rippling pleasure.

Once he’d regained some semblance of control he let up a little on his bite, nipping and licking at the surrounding plate a few moments before started to move. Gradually picking up his pace as Garrus relaxed into him, eyes closed and panting. Eventually they found a good rhythm and the only sound beyond moans was the sharp sound of hips meeting every so often when he hilted completely. 

“Spirits Garrus… you’re so hot. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted you like this.” He picked up his pace even more, causing his partner to tense up again and half scream, half moan his name. “That’s it. Tell me what you need.,..”

“Adrien please… nuhg… Spirits… Primarch please let me come. Oh please… dammit... oh fuck.” He struggled against the hand pinning him down, only the leverage Adrien had keeping him on top. “Please let me come, I need it…” he whined, feeling powerless. 

After two more thrusts Victus was at the brink as well, he let go of Garrus’ hands only to grasp his cock and handle it in time with his near vicious thrusts into his partner.

“Garrus, come for me.” 

And come he did. Getting impossibly tight as he cried out in ecstasy, pulling the Primarch right over the edge with him. His hand finally unable to keep from grabbing onto the older man, talons digging into his shoulders as he held on for dear life.  

They both came down slowly. 

Hot and panting. Muscles sore and exhausted. For the first time that night Victus touched his crest to Vakarian’s. The significance of the gesture was not lost on him. This was suddenly much more than simple stress relief. He pressed up into his partner, holding him until the older male softened and slid back into his own plates. 

“Thank you,” Victus said as he pulled back. Stiffly moving to sit on the edge of the bed, hips rising long enough to pull his pants back up. Garrus followed him up, moulding his naked chest to the Primarch’s clothed back. 

Nuzzling against his shoulder Garrus quietly asked, “Is there anything else I can do for you Primarch?” his voice raw.

“Come back alive tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir.”


	5. Tuchanka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the Normandy reaches Tuchanka, the squad has a number of missions to complete. It only gets more complicated when family gets involved and tensions are higher than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! This chapter is more plot than porn, but if you're back for more then I hope you enjoy. I promise additional sexytimes come in Chapter 6.

**** Wind was whipping through the battleground, the yellow-grey sky overhead had a storm brewing in the distance. Tuchanka was a disaster of a planet and this fight was just as much of one. Cerberus troops threatened to overrun the small team, at first they’d been evacuating the area, trying to get clear of the blast radius, but now they were coming back in hordes. Assault troopers, Centurions. It was a mess. 

The Ninth Platoon and Shepard’s team were holding strong. A few injuries, but no casualties yet. Javik and Shepard were fighting up close and personal with the troopers and the most recent addition to the fight, an ATLAS mech. Garrus was high above the field, shooting round after round from his sniper rifle.  _ “Scratch one! _ ” he yelled in victory over the coms when he downed another Centurion.

“Right through the mailslot!” laughed the Commander as he shot another concussive round into the ATLAS. “Victus, how’re you doing?”

The response was nearly immediate. “Almost there, Commander!” Tarquin was working his way through the bomb’s controls, trying to shut it down.

“Keep it up!” Shepard called back. “Vakarian, can I get an overload? We’ve almost got it.”

Above him a blue flash erupted, causing the mech to sizzle and the shields to spark and die.  _ “Already on it,” _ he replied after letting off another round. “ _ Oh shit!” _ the turian suddenly yelled, the loud clash of metal on metal sounding over the com unit.  _ “Get off!” _ he growled, obviously fighting with someone, hand to hand.

The Commander didn’t have time to take his eyes off his mark. “What’s going on up there?” He pulled the rocket launcher off his back, letting loose a few rounds, the ATLAS blowing up quite spectacularly. “Garrus, answer me!” 

For a few moments there were only the sounds of heavy breathing and an exhaustive fight. Shepard and Javik had already started to make their way backwards, towards his perch, when finally he replied. “ _ Got it. Fucking Phantom! _ ” he groaned and swore again. “ _ Medi-gel doesn’t work fast enough, spirits.” _

“Sitrep, Vakarian.” The Commander demanded, although his voice was less strained than before. “Javik, cover Victus.”

“Yes, Commander.” The Prothean replied automatically.

Another grunt.  _ “I’m fine. Cover Victus.” _

“I’m coming to you,” he said jogging between cover. The field mostly clear of troops now. Javik and the few remaining turians keeping them off of Tarquin. When he got to the top of the ledge Garrus was nested behind, he saw his best friend’s sniper rifle, nearly cut in half, thrown to the side. A dead human lay a few paces away, the white parts of the armor at her throat coated red. Her blade between them, dark blue, stained with turian blood. “What the hell happened?” Shepard asked when his eyes hit the turian sitting with his back against cover, com unit off. 

“Really liked that gun,” Garrus lamented instead of replying, hands putting pressure on his thigh where the blade had edged its way in between two plates of armor. “Phantom came out of nowhere, noticed her just as she struck. Hit my rifle instead of me, so I guess I should consider myself lucky.” He huffed a self-depreciating laugh. 

The human Commander helped to remove the hard ceramic plating at his thigh, blood spurting from the open wound for a moment before they got a compress wrap against it. Medigel worked to seal the hole, but the blood loss was already enough to make the turian visibly weaker. “Going to be alright?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” 

Shepard might have replied, but the coms hissed. “ _ Field is clear for now, Commander,”  _ Javik’s voice was weary. “ _ Another shuttle is likely incoming.” _

He sighed. “Understood, I’ll be right down.” Shepard unclipped his own sniper rifle from his back and handed it to Garrus. “You’ll be more help up here, don’t wreck this one too, alright?” He smirked.

“Fuck you too,” the turian replied as he replaced his armor and took the fresh gun. As Shepard jogged off he got back into position, careful not to put too much pressure on his left leg as he knelt down. 

Shepard reached the platform that held the bomb’s controls just as another shuttle arrived. The shooting started again, the rhythmic boom of the sniper in time with the assault rifle blasts from Shepard and the electric sizzle of Javik’s gun. 

“Commander! Firewall’s down! I’m in!” Lieutenant Victus called out across the battlefield. “Spirits! Cerberus hacked the trigger mechanism! It’s set to detonate!” 

“Disarm it!” Shepard called back between shots of his assault rifle.

“No time! I have to separate the trigger from the bomb! Now!” Smashing his hands down on the keyboard he backed off and made a run for the ladder, leading to the bomb’s manual controls. A minute later he reached the top of the construct and his hands were flying across the controls.

His growl over the coms was audible as the bomb’s containment arms started to unlock. Something must have been going wrong. 

“Lieutenant!” Shepard called out in question. Looking up to see the young turian dangling off the side of the bomb. 

“Victory… at any cost.” Tarquin called out, resigned to his fate. He pulled the last of the supports from the casing and, along with the bomb, fell to his death.

+-+-+

Mopping up the last of Cerberus’ forces didn’t take long. Shepard sent what remained of the Ninth Platoon back to their ship, and told them to rendezvous with the  _ Normandy  _ in orbit to await instructions from the Hierarchy. 

Shepard’s team was exhausted. Not one of them was injury free, although Garrus was by far the worst with the hole in his leg. Needing to use one of the others for support as they limped back to the shuttle. The Commander’s armor was pitted with new dents, his shoulder aching from a close quarters shot. Javik had to keep brushing blood out of his upper right eye, a slash that refused to close dripping into it. 

The shuttle ride back to the Normandy was silent until Joker’s voice sounded over the com unit.  _ “Commander, I’ve got radio chatter coming in from krogan forces planetside. _ ” He paused a moment, waiting for a reply that didn’t come. “ _ Sounds like they started sweeping out the remaining Cerberus troops. Hate to be the guy who told the krogan about that surprise package. You get out all right? Sounds like it got ugly down there. _ ” 

Shepard sighed. “The turians took a lot of casualties, Joker. The primarch’s son included.”

The pilot paused a moment, before deciding to excuse himself.  _ “Understood Commander. Joker out.” _

“He never hesitated.” Garrus said, solemnly, from his place across from Shepard. “Whatever he was before, he’ll be remembered for this.” 

Shepard looked up. “What will the turians think about this, Garrus?”

“Hard to say.” He stood up on shaky legs, holding onto the handrail for support. “Sacrifice in war is expected. He did us proud, but… we’re a hard bunch to please.” He looked away, towards the door. “Living your life for the cause, society first, platoon first. It’s all just expected.”

“He did what he had to do when it counted.”

“Yes. Yes he did.”

The Commander removed his gloves and threw them at the pilot's compartment. His face dropped to his hands. “I’m getting tired of seeing people die.”

Garrus might’ve replied, but it was Javik who cut in. “Lieutenant Victus fought for a cause he believed in. A soldier can’t ask for more than that. He died well.”

“Nobody dies well.” Shepard replied, bitter. “I’m tired of saying otherwise.”

+-+-+-+

When the team reached the ship their resident prothean volunteered to handle the post mission shuttle work, with Cortez, while the other two headed for the elevator. Garrus’ arm over Shepard’s shoulders to ease the weight on his injured leg. When they reached the lift the turian hit the control for the Command deck. 

“Hell no, Garrus. You’re going to see Chakwas.” Shepard argued with his crewmate. 

He shook his head. “You’ll need my help with those two. My leg will hold for another half hour or so. Karin can bitch at me afterwards. Tarquin... “ he sighed, long and sad. “It’ll come better from me about Tarquin.”

The Commander reluctantly agreed with a quick nod, instead shifting focus. “What the hell happened out there? It’s not like you to miss something like that. Fuck, she could have killed you. I can’t lose you to this damn war. I need someone I can trust at my back.”

“I got distracted,” Vakarian admitted. “Was so focused on keeping those assholes off you that I missed a scan. So, Spirits damned, focused on making sure no one killed the Primarch’s son, and what the hell was it for? He’s dead anyway.” He rubbed at the budding headache with his free hand.

“Is there something I should know, Garrus?” Shepard was looking up at him, a questioning look on his face.

He gritted his teeth. “Last night… the Primarch and I were… uh… together. Was supposed to be just a little stress relief, but it was more intense than that. And now? I just don’t know.”

The Commander’s voice was more confused than accusatory when he asked for clarification. “But I thought you and Wrex were… uh...” he paused trying to find the right word. “Together?” he decided on. 

With a sigh Garrus explained further. “We aren’t exclusive.  _ Can’t be. _ His words, not mine. The krogan people need him and I won’t get in the way of that.” The doors opened and they walked out onto the CIC, stumbling slightly on the way to the war room. Previous conversation buried for now. 

Joker’s voice came over the com as they entered security. “ _ Commander, Admiral Hackett wants to speak with you. He’s on the QEC. _ ”

“Understood Joker, thanks.” After the, painfully slow, scanner finished they stepped into the hallway. Adrien was alone in the conference room and, considering the noise coming from the war room, Wrex was in there beating up some poor console. “Talk to Victus. When I’m done with Hackett, we deal with Wrex.”

Garrus nodded, using the glass wall for support as he entered the conference room. The door closed behind him and he steeled himself for what was to come. Primarch Victus didn’t look up from the datapad in his hands, even though he knew he wasn’t alone.

Clearing his throat he began the official Hierarchy death notification. “Primarch Victus, it is with my deepest condolences that I must report your son, Lieutenant Tarquin Victus, was killed in action today while ensuring the safety of the krogan planet Tuchanka. His actions not only ensured the safety of his command, but also saved the alliance between the Hierarchy and the krogan clans. His sacrifice will be written into the history of the Ninth Platoon. He will be remembered for his strength and courage in the face of death.”

The silence grew between them as Garrus waited for Adrien to respond. As per protocol, he was to wait until the other party was ready to speak. Until the initial shock had passed. The hum of the engines was the only sound for a long time. The conference room, mostly, soundproof.

“I know.” Was all Adrien said, his voice more akin to the sound of metal scraping on metal than his usual deep rolling tones. His head was bowed, eyes unfocused on the datapad. “My son is dead and it’s my fault.”

Before Garrus could stop himself he stepped beside his superior, hand only centimeters from his shoulder. “Sir...” he began before stopping short. Nothing he could come up with was good enough to voice aloud. His hand dropped down to the table, clenched in a fist so hard his gauntlet creaked. The silence stretched between them again. 

“You should be in the medical bay.” Adrien said, finally breaking the quiet. “I was listening on the com.” 

With a shake of his head, Garrus replied. “No. I’m right where I need to be.” He looked up to see the Primarch staring at him, eyes soft, thankful? maybe. The younger man turned towards the older and waited for him to move. 

Adrien took a step forwards, his forehead dropping to his junior’s shoulder. His hands remained at his sides, even as Garrus’ moved up to hold him, one hand on the back of his fringe in comfort and the other on his shoulders for balance.

A minute or two passed before a small flash, indicating a message, popped up on Garrus’ visor. Shepard had just ended his call with the Admiral. He stepped back and Adrien sighed. “I suppose that means it’s time to explain things to the clan leader then?”

“I’m right behind you.”

+-+-+-

Shepard walked in on Adrien and Wrex arguing, Garrus standing between them obviously making sure they didn’t come to blows. Missing the beginning of the conversation, he was grateful fists hadn’t started flying yet. “We couldn’t risk another galactic war with the krogan!” Victus was saying.

“The genophage wasn’t enough?” Wrex questioned, rhetorically. “You had to plant a bomb on my planet!”

Garrus butt in. “That’s not fair, Wrex!”

“The decision was made hundreds of years ago, so much has changed!” The Primarch attempted to defend his people’s decision, then and now.

An accusing finger was pointed at the younger man. “Not enough to tell us about the bomb, coward! Did you even tell your own people? Tell Shepard?”

“Hey!” The commander interjected, having had enough of their argument already. “We can’t let the past rip us apart. Working together, we have a chance.” He paced around the display table in the war room. “Primarch, you had a bomb on Tuchanka. And Wrex? In the turian’s place, you would’ve done the same damned thing.”   

“Shepard…” Wrex tried, but he cut him off.

“It’s over! His own son died today making this right!” 

Adrien stepped in, almost defending the krogan’s outrage. “Please, Commander, it’s all right.”

“Yeah.” Wrex had relaxed a bit. “It’s fine, Shepard, you made your point. We have stronger enemies to face.”

“We do.” The human agreed. Changing subject he continued. “Now, will one of you take Garrus to the fucking medical bay? He’s dripping on my deck!” 

“I’ve got him,” Wrex replied with a huff, grabbing Garrus under the arm and dragging him off. Not allowing him enough time to protest the order, nor the rough treatment.

When the door closed Victus relaxed a bit. “I understand your reservations from before, Commander, but I hope you now understand the secrecy.”

The human male sighed. “Secrets get people killed. You’ve learned that the hard way.”

“Yes… the hardest lesson I’m ever to learn, Commander.” Adrien took the few paces up the stairs before turning around to say one last thing. “My son… he died with the respect of his men. I wanted to thank you for that. His sacrifice will be recorded in the histories of the Ninth Platoon, something any father would be proud of.” 

“Yes, sir.”

+-+-+-+-

Wrex half carried, half dragged Garrus with him to the lift. It wasn’t until they were behind closed doors that he turned to look at his turian friend. He eyed him up and down once. “Tell me you didn’t know about the bomb.” He demanded in a low voice. 

“Not initially. Found out when we hit Tuchanka earlier today. When we came back to the ship you were in with Mordin, by the time you were done we were already out for the second run.”

Growling the krogan shoved his partner against the wall. Looming over him he held him there with one hand. “The turians pull another move like that, Vakarian, and this alliance is off.” 

“Just bear with me, Wrex. This is hard for all of us.”

“I’ve got Reapers on my planet, a bomb that almost blew up my planet, and if those two fail, the genophage to make sure we all go extinct anyways. I don’t want to hear about who has it hard.”

“Understood,” he held up his hands placating. “But Wrex? You need to trust me.”

He scoffed. “Trust you? You’re sleeping with the damned enemy. How the hell am I supposed to trust you now?” 

“Hey!” Garrus yelled back, standing up for himself and pushing the older man back. “You don’t get to play that card with me. You gave me permission, fuck not even permission, more than that, you told me to bed him. You don’t get to be the victim here.”

Before Wrex could reply the doors opened and Garrus stumbled out into the hallway. Leaving the krogan alone in the lift while he limped to the medical bay, a few dots of midnight blue blood trailing behind him.

+-+-+-

Hours later Shepard, Wrex and Victus reconvened in the war room. “I’ve been speaking with Mordin,” the Commander was explaining. “He needs another day, maybe two, before the cure is ready for deployment. In the meantime we’ll go to the Attican Traverse. Finish that job you asked me for, Wrex.”

“There is time for that later, Shepard, now is the time to secure the Shroud. We can hold it for a day!” The Urdnot leader argued. 

But the Commander shook his head. “No. To start off, every minute we’re on Tuchanka is another red flag to the Reapers that we’re up to something. They’ve already sent one Reaper to protect the Shroud. We fight for it now? And they send more. We can’t hold it against multiple incoming. And two, I need Garrus for that mission. Chakwas says she needs a day before she’ll release him.”

Wrex was fed up. “You have a team, Shepard. He can sit this one out.” 

“We need time for Armak wing to make it here from Palaven. Right, Victus?” he waited for the Primarch to nod before continuing. “I said I would help you cure the genophage, Wrex. And I will. You need to let me do it my way.”

“Shepard,” he began, but the Commander cut him off with a swipe of his hand. 

“No, Wrex. You bullied me into this fucking mess and now you’ll wait until I’m good and ready. Remember,” he fumed. “I’m letting earth, my planet, burn while I deal with your problems. You didn’t trust me enough to get you the cure AFTER you start helping the turians. You wanted your damn cure, first. Your people, first. So you know what? Fuck you. Now? It’s my crew first.” With that the Commander stormed out of the war room. The door shutting behind him with a quiet swish, much less dramatic than his departure warranted.

Victus sighed. “We’re both guilty of it,” he began, resigned. “It’s time we start working together, for real. Without one another, we won’t make it through this war.” He took a few paces towards the krogan leader and held out his arm, in the krogan way. “Are you with me?” he asked.

The battlemaster eyed the other man a moment before deciding that, yes, he would work with him. Work for the end of the Reapers, after that he wasn’t sure what would happen. “I won’t promise to be friends, but yeah,” he clasped the other man’s arm. “I’ll work with you.”

+-+-+-+

The  _ Normandy _ was in transit again before Garrus was released from the medical bay, unsure about where he should go. Wrex would still be pissed with him. Shepard too. And Victus? He wasn’t sure what kind of mood the Primarch would be in. Instead the turian decided on a retreat. His armor still needed to be repaired, which gave him an excuse to sequester himself in the main battery.

His limp was still prominent, but at least he was able to walk on his own the short distance to his quarters. Ever since Omega he’d used the warm and dimly lit room as his home, then preferring it to the crowded Cerberus bunks, and now using it as a space to work late into the night cycle without disturbing anyone. 

After quickly changing into a set of his standard fatigues he dropped down onto his cot heavily. Reaching under the bed, he pulled out his toolbox and cleaning supplies before settling into his task. It was always a little humbling fixing your own gear after a firefight. Assessing the weaknesses of your tech and seeing where you’d gone wrong. Moreso when scrubbing off flecks of dried blood.

He’d just about finished when the door opened. Commander Shepard striding in, looking frustrated as ever. “The hell are you doing out of the medical bay?” he asked, tone low and daring him to argue.

“Doc cleared me to my own bunk for the night, Shepard.” Garrus replied before putting down his gear. He gestured to the stack of crates across from him. “Need me for something?”

The human looked behind himself, at the offered seat, and shrugged before sitting down. “Yeah. I need you on Tuchanka. But that damn leg of yours needs time to heal. We’re heading to check out Wrex’s missing scouts. Something about Rachni activity. Not sure on all the details yet.”

“I’ll be ready for Tuchanka. Don’t you worry about that.” Garrus paused a moment, waiting for Shepard to reply. When he didn’t he sighed. “There’s more to it than that. Tell me what’s going on.”

The human hummed in acknowledgement. “I’m more worried about this alliance. Krogan and turians, together? Maybe we’re asking too much here. I don’t know. Wrex is just so damn focused on curing the genophage that he can’t see past it, can’t see that it doesn’t matter if the Reapers kill us first.”

“I know what you mean,” Garrus replied without looking at Shepard. The human prompted him to continue and so he did. “Wrex doesn’t think he can trust me anymore. Got pissed that I didn’t tell him about the bomb.”

“We were only back on the ship a few hours,” the Commander mused. “But I guess I could see why he’d be angry about that. Or maybe… he was projecting his anger?” 

The obvious dig at Garrus’ loyalties made him growl in response. “Just because I screwed Victus doesn’t mean anything between us has changed. He fucking told me to. He knows turians have different methods of getting their heads on straight than krogan do. Victus needed an outlet. I’m the only turian on board. What was I supposed to do?”

Shepard held his hands up, placating. “Woah! Don’t bite my head off, Garrus. I’m just trying to figure out what the hell is going on, on my ship. I need you to talk to me.”

“Sorry. Been a confusing couple days,” he admitted, calming a little. “Well, you know that Wrex and I had been… uh… blowing off steam since the first  _ Normandy _ .” Shepard nodded, appreciative that he was vague in his description. “We talked about it after we took down that thresher maw for Grunt, that he had his duty to his people, he cared, but couldn’t commit.”

“Right, I suppose that makes sense. He’s the leader of the krogan and don’t they have breeding requirements or something?”

“Requests,” the turian corrected. “But yeah. He’s got responsibilities. I committed a little more than I should’ve, and it wasn’t until I actually had to see him with Eve that it bothered me he wasn’t exclusive. Listen to him talk about the genophage and his people, day in and day out, that I started to feel neglected. Then I’ve got Adrien coming on to me, asking me for help. And Wrex just encourages it? It’s fucking complicated.”

Shepard tried for levity. “I thought my life was weird.” 

“Lives. Plural, Shepard.” Garrus chuckled. “I think you still win. Speaking of which, why the hell are you in here? Discussing my sex life, when you could be having your own?”

A hand moved up to rub at the back of his buzzed head. “Hey, what are best friends for?” Garrus raised a browplate at him, the nearest thing to raising an eyebrow as he could get. “Fine… Liara’s being all… Shadowbrokery. With that weird little robot, Glyph. It freaks me out.”

Garrus laughed, for real this time. “The  _ Great Commander Shepard _ . Scared off by a droid. That’s hilarious.” He calmed down to see a fake pout on his friend’s face. He, more seriously, added reassurance. “You’re always welcome here, Shepard. You know that?”

“Yeah, thanks buddy.” The Commander got a wicked gleam in his eye as he stood to leave. “As long as you aren’t planning to add me to that list of military leaders you’re fucking? We’re good.” He had to move quickly to dodge the gauntlet Garrus threw at him. Laughing the whole way down the bridge to the galley.

“You wish, Shepard!” Garrus called after him. 

+-+-+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Shepard, you're funny. At least he didn't suggest Admiral Hackett?


	6. Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien visits Garrus during the night cycle, and things get a little heated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've kidnapped an idea from a few other authors, Reverie. So, thank you to Kuraiummei, Recidiva and MizDirected. I couldn't resist it with these two! Their moment needed a little extra oomph. 
> 
> Reverie - A hormone cocktail produced in Turian saliva, hormone glands inside a turian's mouth can release the substance when in a sexual context at the user's will. Promotes endorphine release and when mixed with another turian's reverie induces a slight high, promoting bonding.

A few hours into the night cycle, Garrus was still wide awake. Lying on his cot, staring at the ceiling. The lights dimmed down, the only sound was the drivecore humming away under him and the main weapons array, ticking through another algorithm. He sighed, exhaustion pulling at him, but his mind was far too awake to allow him to sleep. Between his problems with Wrex and Adrien’s misfortune. The young turian was at a loss for what to do.

A knock at the door jarred him. He sat up too fast, low on blood from the injury earlier in the day, making him dizzy. Shaking his head to clear it, he called out a greeting. “Come in.” He looked up to see the Primarch at the door, his hand on the frame, a concerned look on his face.

“Garrus, is this a bad time?” Adrien asked as he entered, taking in the pained expression on his friend’s face. 

“No, it’s fine. Couldn’t sleep anyways.”

Victus look a few paces into the battery, the door closing softly behind him. “Leg bothering you?” he asked, stopping short of the cot, looking torn if he should be offering comfort or leaving instead. 

The younger turian shook his head again. “Naw. Had worse.” He gestured to the extensive scarring on his face and chest, only wearing a loose sleeveless shirt and light sleeping pants. He cleared his throat. “Something I can do for you, Primarch?”

“If only there was,” Adrien answered, tone dejected. “You did all you could, Garrus. More than I deserved. And I should leave you to get some rest.” He turned to go, but stopped when he heard the sniper stir behind him. 

A hand clamped down on his clothed shoulder, giving him a light squeeze. “Adrien,” Garrus began. “I’m sorry about Tarquin. If I…”

“Stop…” the Primarch cut him off. “I was watching the video feed. Listening to the coms. There was nothing you, or anyone, could have done. Save take his place. Cerberus killed him. Our ancestors’ bomb killed him. Not you. Not the Commander.” He allowed the comfort of his subordinates’ hand to stay, enjoying the contact even if it wasn’t plate to plate. “If anything I killed him with my poor orders. If I’d have trusted someone else with the information, trusted you? He might still be alive.”

“Adrien.” Garrus’ voice was laced with worry and sadness, subvocal range soothing to reassure and comfort. “It wasn’t your fault. You did what you thought was necessary. Nothing in this war has been easy, he died a hero to our people. And to the krogan. This alliance will stand because of him.” He took another limped step forwards, wrapping his arms around the older turian. 

Adrien’s chin fell to his chest. Shoulders shaking in inexpressible pain as he keened. Garrus held him. There was nothing more he could do, only add his understanding and comfort to his superior’s own voice.

They stayed like that a long time. 

Long enough for Garrus’ leg to begin to ache from the strain, muscles twitching in discomfort as he forced himself to remain still. When he could no longer take it, he adjusted to allow his good leg to take all his weight. Alerting the Primarch to the issue.

“Garrus?” he asked, turning in the younger man’s arms to face him. “What’s wrong?” golden eyes looked into his glacial-blue ones. Quickly he eyed the younger turian, seeing the issue and immediately moving to his injured side and take some of his weight. 

The scarred turian allowed himself to be directed back to the cot. A sigh of relief passed as he sat down, weight completely off the new injury. “Thanks,” he mumbled. Rubbing at his thigh a few times before his hand was shoved aside by the older turian’s. 

“Let me,” Adrien said by way of explanation. Removing his gloves he began working his hands across the abused flesh of his thigh. Careful not to pull at the still closing tear, he worked his thumbs into the muscles between his plates. Forcing the ache to dissipate. Within a few minutes he had the pale turian’s head resting back against the bulkhead, mouth parted in a pleased groan. Finally relaxing. “Better?” he asked, sounding rather pleased with himself. 

A long drawn out moan was his answer. And he grinned at that, deciding that he wanted to hear more of that noise. Even if he was powerless outside this room? He could control things in here. 

The Primarch’s hands continued their quest, finding tight muscles at every turn. He worked at them until they released under the pressure of his, battle hardened, hands. Within a few minutes he had made Garrus into a purring mess of mouldable flesh. He laid him down on his stomach, beginning to work at his back, the tightness particularly bad in his right shoulder, his shooting arm. 

His hands worked under the light shirt Vakarian wore, until it became cumbersome and he pulled it up to expose the plates on his partner’s back, and his innumerable scars. Garrus helped him by way of shoving it over his head, leaving it caught up in his arms in front of him. The light moans of enjoyment turned to a long drawn out groan when Adrien finally helped himself to the impossibly lean waist of his advisor. His own anticipation showing through when he fully got onto the small cot behind Garrus, kneeling over the backs of his thighs as his talons drew lines across the willing expanse of plate below him. 

Dropping his weight down across the younger male’s back, arms coming to rest either side of his head, it was easy to speak directly into his ear. “Tell me you want me,” he said, voice low and filled with a whole host of emotions that Garrus hadn’t quite expected. 

“Please, sir. Please take me.” The words came unbidden from his throat. Unable to stop himself from giving in to his superior, even if he’s wanted to. “Please, Primarch. I need you.”

Adrien’s teeth came down on his shoulder, not hard enough to break hide, but enough that the younger turian felt each prick of his teeth. One of the slate-plated turian’s hands took his own, wrapped up as they were in his shirt, and held them above his head, stretching him into a long line. The other pulled off his sleeping pants and helped him to his knees. The Primarch’s form draped over his easily. Moulding to the curve of his carapace. It wasn’t long before he felt the older male’s erection against the plates of his lower back. Talons pressed into his mouth, gathering saliva before sliding back down to press at his entrance. The plates parting readily for him. 

Garrus couldn’t suppress the groan as the Primarch pushed into him, two talons insistently stretching his entrance, preparing him. His own hardness escaped his protective plates and fell forgotten, for now, into the sheets. “Primarch, please.” he whined again, grinding against the talons inside him and the sheets in front of him, wanting more contact, needing it. 

“Patience, Garrus.” Adrien mumbled into his shoulder, teeth leaving angry purple lines in the skin of his neck, before they were followed up with a soothing tongue. The advisor could feel his smile as he moaned, hips jerking at the contact. “Tell me, what is it you need?”

“Need you,” he replied immediately.

Teeth came down sharper, only millimeters from tearing into his throat, definitely leaving bruises. The hand wrapped in his advisor’s tightened its hold, pulling the shirt taut, effectively tying Garrus’ hands up. The fabric biting into his wrists. The kneeling turian went rigid all the sudden, panting breaths stopping. Victus paused, mouth holding still over his throat, a questioning subvocal noise the only sound besides the ship humming in the background. 

“Adrien,” Garrus started, the use of his first name proving something was wrong. Adrien backed off a little, not letting go yet, but taking some of his weight off his partner and releasing the hold on his neck. “Untie my hands.”

The Primarch released him, sitting back on his haunches. “Why?” he asked, confused, an almost hurt undertone in his voice.

Garrus swallowed audibly, pushing himself up to kneel facing away from the Primarch. “It’s a long story,” the younger male said by way of explanation. “If you want a short version? The scars explain it well enough.” He shrugged his shoulders, letting Adrien’s eyes see the scars for what they were. Giving him time to process that there were very few ways those kinds of marks could get there. None of them pleasant. 

Expecting sounds of disgust or pity, Garrus picked a spot on the floor to his right and ducked his head towards it. Effectively covering some of his facial scarring in the process. Instead he only heard a rustle of fabric as the Primarch relieved himself of his tunic, and then he felt the press of a bare chest against his back. One hand moved to his tied hands, the other trailed from his thigh up the tight span of his abdomen and chest to hold his throat. Pulling his head up and to the opposite side with his thumb and fingers sitting under the sides of his jaw. A slight bit of pressure caused the younger male to feel light headed, but he allowed it for the moment.

“Adrien…” he began with a low hum, a warning, in his sub vocal cues. 

“Do you trust me, Garrus?” Adrien cut him off. Hands tightening their grip, his chest molding more firmly against his back. His mouth pressed against the side of his face, damp breath in his ear. 

The Primarch could feel the tremor in his Advisor’s arms as he fought against his nature, nodding. “I do.”

“Then trust me now. I won’t bring you harm, and you can make this stop at anytime. Just say my name. If you do? You’ll be released immediately, I will leave, and we will never speak of this again. Do you agree?”

“Yes, sir.” He replied, voice still unsure. 

The hand cupping his jaw turned him slightly, so they were face to face. Without warning, Adrien’s mouth was on him. His tongue diving into the younger male’s mouth, tasting him. The act unusual for a casual turian fling, only done with long term partners. Usually only between bondmates. The hormone cocktail that flooded Garrus’ senses was more than he’d ever expected from Reverie, having never partaken himself. He knew of it, but experiencing it was an entirely different world. 

Relaxing into the older male he began kissing back, tongue learning quickly as they battled for dominance. Adrien allowing him access to his own mouth, letting him explore and moan as he found the glands that produced his own hormones. When saliva started mixing thoroughly he started to get a little high from it. Endorphins flooding his system. 

“Garrus…” he groaned, hips grinding forwards with his erection renewed and now becoming painful. His grip tightened slightly, pulling the bound hands of his partner forwards, so he had to lean back down, elbows and knees supporting both their weight. “Tell me, Garrus. What do you desire?” he licked a line up the scarred tissue of the male’s neck. 

“Primarch,” came his breathy reply, more relaxed than before yet more wound up at the same time. “I need you, need you inside me please. I want to feel all of you.”

“As you wish,” the slate grey turian replied with a voice much too calm. He released his partner’s throat and used that hand to guide himself into the much younger male. Groaning into his tight, hot entrance. Mouth searching again for another hit of Reverie. 

Garrus arched up into him; neck twisted back at an uncomfortable angle to give him more of that addictive substance. His bound hands no longer bothered him, too far gone to care. Hips driving back into his partner, impaling himself with his steel hard length. The sound of plate slapping plate harsh against his ears. They found a steady rhythm once Adrien pulled back, letting his hands go in favor of grabbing at his hips, pulling him into each thrust. Talons digging slightly into the less plates sections of his waist, drawing blood. Too far gone. 

They went on like that until Adrien found completion, cock buried deep into his partner and teeth in the junction between his neck and throat. The heat of him became so intense, fluid leaking out of Garrus and down his thighs as he kept going, milking a few final thrusts. His mouth leaving the now bloody shoulder to grab at one last shot of Reverie as he finished. And that threw Garrus over the edge. Crying out as he came into the sheets, the mix of his own metallic blood and his partner’s too strong hormones sending him crashing down.

Vakarian’s shaking leg gave out and he fell forwards to the cot, hands sprawled out in front of him, head between his biceps. Adrien had enough presence of mind to shift his weight to the side, butting up against his spent partner, curling into his side. Once his breathing started to return to normal he reached up and unravelled the shirt from his partner’s hands.

With a sigh Garrus relaxed his shoulders, bringing them down to rub at the angry purpling skin, rubbed raw in his initial struggle. Adrien forced him to roll onto his side so they were facing each other. He took the abused hands in his own, mouthing at the irritated skin, his tongue bathing them with Reverie infused saliva. The ex-cop relaxed into him, tension falling as the hormone leached further into his system.

Getting a little brave when the Primarch finished he leaned forwards, his mouth seeking his superior’s. At first he was chaste, unsure of himself, but the older man’s previous experience was able to cover any deficiencies. The sniper prided himself on being a quick study, and the longer they kissed the more heated it got. Garrus eventually gathered the strength needed to swing a leg over the Primarch’s hips, moaning into his mouth. Drunk from Reverie, his leg no longer hurting quite so badly.

“I’m a bad influence on you,” Adrien chuckled when Garrus finally left his mouth, teasing licks and bites down his mandible and onto his neck. His hands only encouraged, one pressing the back of Garrus’ head into his neck, the other teasing at his hips.

“So what if you are?” the younger male replied between nips. His hands unfortunately too focus on keeping himself up, rather than touching his partner. “Wasn’t expecting it to be so… intense.”

Adrien hummed at him, agreeing. “It’s been a long time. Thank you for trusting me.”

Garrus paused a moment, sitting back on his haunches a little so he could look down into his partner’s eyes. “I do. Trust you, I mean. I’ll admit it wasn’t the most comfortable at first. Reverie helped, but…”

A single talon pressed against his mouth, and he fell silent. “I do not share it with just anyone. You’re the second. The first was my mate before she passed.”

“Adr…” Garrus started, only to be silence by the Primarch again, this time with a tongue on his own and a large dose of the cocktail. Adrien only stopped when Garrus was humming with pleasure again, willing to be silent.

“Let me speak.” Garrus nodded, thus he continued. “I didn’t mention her for pity. I needed to express what you’ve come to mean to me. I know it’s only been a short time, Vakarian. But in this war? Time is short.” The younger turian’s eyes widened and he nearly choked, staying silent only because he was asked to. “I have been alone a long time, Tarquin’s mother passed during his birth. My son is now gone as well. I do not wish to be alone if this is the end. The timing is poor, I know that. But, it will not improve I imagine.”

“Primarch… I… I don’t know what to say.”

He smiled, shaking his head slightly. “Then say nothing. Do not decide now. Let the Reverie out of your system first. Know that I was going to ask you regardless of how this past mission went. You are special to me Garrus Vakarian.” One hand snaked around the back of his head, pulling him down to press their crests together, gentle enough that, had he wanted to, Garrus could have easily stopped him. 

It was the younger male who initiated another battle of tongues, reaching deep to ensure their own unique pheromones could intermingle. Only pulling back once he was struggling for breath, the turian under him just as badly. “I’ll do as you’ve asked and wait, however I doubt my answer will change. You might change your mind, however. There’s a few things you should know…”

“No.” Adrien cut him off. “I don’t need to know anything more. You are the reason our people will survive this war. Your strength. Your alliances. Your Commander. You are roguishly handsome, have steady aim, and a steady heart. Nothing in the past matters.”

Garrus’ neck flushed blue at the praise, regardless he carefully pulled himself off of his partner. Choosing to sit on the edge of the cot instead. “You might not say that if you knew…”

A hand cupped his face, pulling it back to look at the older tuian. “I don’t care if you fucked a krogan. I want to be with you.” His voice was light as he said it, obviously thinking of the most ridiculous circumstances within easy reach. His... peculiar friendship with Wrex an easy thing to draw on. 

Regardless he went a little rigid at the implications. He was about to let the truth out when Adrien continued. “Hell, even if you and Commander Shepard had spent those two lost years together, running a kava shop in the ass end of the galaxy. I wouldn’t care. I want you, Garrus.” His sub vocals were thrumming with desire and honesty. 

Instead he forced a small smile of his own. “Then you think on that when not high, alright? If you want me to tell you, I will.”

Adrien nodded once, pulling his advisor’s face down again for one last lick of Reverie. He stood after that, disentangling himself from the sheets and replacing his tunic. “Rest, Garrus. We’ll talk in the morning.” With that, he was gone.

Garrus fell back onto the cot, arms crossing over his face. He had a lot more to think about now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! A steamy little number for you. 
> 
> Now, the real question is... how is Wrex going to react? I'm leaning towards... poorly. But what do you think, readers?


	7. Hated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wrex confront's Garrus about his relationship with the Primarch. Bloodrage is a hell of a drug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDITED: Jan 1, 2018 with a Wrex interlude
> 
> I'm not sure what came over me. Fuck you muse, you're mean.
> 
> I'll just say this now... I'm sorry readers. This wasn't what I was planning... it just happened. Warnings apply to this chapter, partner betrayal and rape/non-con.
> 
> Also, in case you need a soundtrack for Wrex... [**Hated by Beartooth**](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=z0ao8FCW-Qk) is appropriate.

The War Room was quiet this early in the day cycle. Most of the crew were still waking up or grabbing breakfast. Garrus had the deck to himself, so he’d put the ground team’s videofeed up on the centre console. The audio feeding directly into his aural implant. Unable to sleep, the turian had dressed and seen the team off. Shepard leaving the ship as soon as they’d reached Utukku, James and Javik in tow. 

Soon after they’d set foot on the planet, it had all gone to shit. 

Shepard’s decision, all those years ago, reference the Rachni seemed to have some resounding consequences. Reaperized Rachni. Ravagers, as the krogan scout team, Aralakh Company, was calling them. 

The Commander had met with Aralakh. Pleased to find an ally in their leader, Urdnot Grunt. His pseudo son. Shepard had cared for the krogan as though he were his own since releasing him from the tank. Spending time teaching him about the world and how to use his tank bred skills to fight. Together, with Garrus at their back, they’d taken on a thresher maw on foot, allowing him to join clan Urdnot.

So when Garrus believed Grunt had sacrificed himself to save his adoptive parent, he was damning himself for not being there. Not being able to protect his Commander, protect his family. His hands held tight to the console as he watched the suit camera turn from the young krogan, the team splattered with gore and their own blood. James’ arm thrown over Javik’s shoulder to help him run, acid burned through his leg armor. A blackened spot at his knee. 

“Damn it,” he swore. Hands grasping so tightly he could hear the metal creaking under his vice-like grip. He didn’t even notice when the door opened and someone entered. Garrus keyed his com unit on to speak with the ship’s pilot. “Joker, any chance we can hit those caves with the Thanix?”

A moment of silence passed before the human replied, obviously he’d made a few calculations before responding. “ _ Negative. We shoot now, we risk the ground team in the resulting seismic activity. _ ” 

He hummed a frustrated reply, agreeing with the human. Eyes glued to the screen as he watched them make it out of the caves, into the bright sunlight. Shepard’s voice was tight over the coms, his anguish audible even in a species with only one set of vocal chords. 

_ “Wait a minute…” _ Joker said in disbelief. He must have been watching the shuttle’s feed, Garrus had no idea what the man was seeing. “ _ Holy shit. Commander, behind you!” _

He watched the suit camera swing around, getting a full glimpse of Grunt rushing forwards from the caves. Roaring in victory; absolutely drenched in rachni ooze. And with one of their tentacles stabbed into his abdomen.  _ “Shepard!” _ he called out, falling to his knees halfway to the crew. 

The Commander started running towards him, hands glowing blue in light of being out of ammunition. A shockwave threw back the remaining rachni back into their hole. And he reached the younger male’s side in seconds. 

Garrus breathed a sigh of relief before clicking his com on again. “Joker, let’s get ready for evac. Have the doctor standing by in shuttlebay.”

“ _ You got it, boss.” _ Came the quick and slightly snarky reply, although it was all in good humor. An obvious relief settling in for the pilot as well. 

“Another close call?” The Primarch asked, taking the few steps down from the entryway. 

The sniper turned to face the newcomer, shoulders slumping in relief. “You could say that.” Tilting his head to the side he greeted him a little better. “I didn’t hear you come in. You’re up early.”

The older male smiled, stepping into the younger’s personal space. “Obviously you’ve been here a while, Advisor.” His sub vocals were laced with want, playing at his subordinate's title, far too open for the formal words. “I suppose I didn’t wear you out last night then?” His hands fell to hold hips, stepping him back against the console, letting it take the weight off his injured leg. 

Garrus allowed his partner to hold him there for a moment, adrenalin fading from watching the fighting. Accepting the comfort in the relative safety of the closed off War Room. “Gave me a lot to think about,” he offered instead of replying to his question, not wanting to admit how tired he was. 

Adrien leaned in, closing ninety percent of the gap between them, his breath on his junior’s mouth. “Don’t think,” he said. “Just act.” With that tiny command Garrus lost his composure, closing the centimeters of distance between them. Mouth crashing together, tongues seeking each others. Reverie spreading. Heat rising. 

They were at it for almost a minute when they heard footsteps outside the doors, Adrien barely managing to pull back before the doors opened. Still standing between Garrus’ legs when they did, his hands dropping to his sides. 

“Am I interrupting something?” Wrex asked, voice his usual deep bass. He stepped further into the room, making his way casually to his usual console.

“Wrex, good to see you this morning. Have you heard the news from your scouts yet?” Adrien was quick to steer the subject away, stepping around the younger turian and crossing to stand beside the Urdnot clan leader. 

The krogan looked past him, eyes on the youngest male in the room. “Not yet. Was hoping Shepard might be back by now. Anything interesting?”

“Rachni,” the Primarch said by way of explanation. “EDI, would you please pull up a few images from the ground team?” 

_ “Of course, Primarch.” _ The soothing voice of the AI came over the speakers, images appearing as holographic projections on the War Room’s interface.  _ “Officer Vakarian, I believe the Commander will require assistance in the shuttlebay. Their ETA is fourteen minutes away.” _

Careful not to allow his sigh of relief to be audible, Garrus replied. “Of course EDI. I’ll be right there.” He turned to the other males. “Grunt was injured in the fight, he may need evac to the Citadel for treatment depending on the extent of his injuries. Primarch, do we have a ship that would be suitable for rendezvous? The Normandy needs to head for Tuchanka.”

“I can arrange something, of course. I’ve not been introduced to Urdnot Grunt before,” he turned to Wrex. “One of your own?”

The krogan’s mouth turned downwards in a scowl. “Naw, he’s Shepard’s son. Not mine.”

Victus paused, looking confused for a moment before Garrus took pity. “I’ll explain more later, but for now? Adoptive son is the best term we’ve got for him.” He made for the door, stronger on his feet than the day prior with only a slight limp that he mostly managed to cover up. “Until later, Primarch. Wrex.”

Without waiting for a reply he excused himself, leaving his partners alone together. For better or worse. Once safe behind the closed elevator door he thanked EDI for her escape plan and asked that he be informed should Wrex try to start anything with Adrien. 

The military leaders coming to blows over him, was not what the war effort needed right now. 

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Garrus spent the rest of the morning helping with arrangements for Grunt. The young krogan did in fact need evac to the Citadel, much to everyone’s dismay. Chakwas had him alive and breathing on his own, but was unable to clone new organs for him. Their frigate was fit with the best combat injuries suite, not for the complicated surgery it would take to restore the youngling’s intestines. 

The Commander was distraught. He’d screamed at Wrex for giving Grunt a command so early, all but reamed him out for sending him to deal with the suspected Rachni problem with no where near enough backup. 

_ “You sent my son! I trusted you with him, and this is what you do!” _ Garrus had barely managed to manhandle him out of the War Room, still covered in gore and blood, both his own and Grunt’s.

He’d managed to get him into the elevator and up to his cabin, throwing him into the bathroom to clean up before he called Liara. The asari much better prepared to handle Shepard then he was. He waited in the quiet of the cabin, the bubbling fish tank the only sound, until she’d reached the loft. Her mouth a hard set line as she asked Garrus to keep her updated on Grunt’s progress. The turian had agreed, only leaving after he heard the water turn on and pieces of armor begin falling to the tiled floor. His heart aching for his friend as he listened to the beginning of a sob and Liara’s soft caring voice, comforting him. He left after that, knowing that Shepard was in good hands. 

Back on the crew deck he checked in on Javik and James, both of whom had been triaged by Mordin before being left at the mess hall table. Acid burns the worst of it, exhaustion and dehydration following suite. James would be out at least a week, his knee badly burned and shoulder dislocated. Javik wouldn’t be back much sooner, his right hand cradled to his chest where the bones were broken, his amp burnt out.

He helped them to quarters, taking their armor away with him to repair and clean. He met with Steve in the armory, the human helped him with their gear. It took a few hours, but soon it was good as new. Only needing a coat of paint when the sealant finished drying. 

EDI had kept him informed on Grunt’s progress. By the time he finished with the armor, Chakwas and Mordin had finished surgery. He was stable, although heavily sedated. Once he’d checked in on the young krogan himself, he headed back for the Commander’s cabin. A tray laden with dinner for Liara and Shepard.

The asari had been thankful, and quite happy to exchange the meal for Shepard’s personal gear. It needed a solid cleaning and repairs as well. By the time he’d finished with the third set of armor and grabbed dinner for himself it was approaching the night cycle. He’d barely had time to see Adrien, let alone perform his typical advisor duties for the day. 

Meeting with him, back in the War Room, had been a short venture. They’d be arriving at Tuchanka in the morning, a briefing time already set by Shepard for the leaders and Professor Solus. A few last details to discuss before they went planetside. The squad being picked for Shepard out of necessity more than choice, Liara would accompany him and Garrus. The Commander still prefered EDI to remain on the ship while she continued testing her new form. 

“You should get some rest,” Victus told his junior after his second stifled yawn of the evening. “Tomorrow we will change the course of this war, you’ll need your strength.” Stepping back into his personal space, the Primarch cupped one hand under Garrus’ mandible. Pulling their mouths together.

The sniper came willingly, the comforting touch relaxing him. Tension dropped from his shoulders as hormones released and Reverie took hold. By the time they parted, both were breathing heavily, from the passion or lack of oxygen, Garrus didn’t know. Nor care. “I’m just about finished with that report on Digeris,” he said finally into the small space between them. 

“Do I have to make it an order, Advisor?” The golden eyed turian asked with a smirk on his mandibles. Tightening his hold, ever so slightly, on the younger’s jaw. Garrus shook his head, humming a negative back. “Then go. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He pushed himself up as the Primarch’s hand left his face. Swooping in, stealing one last hit of Reverie before walking out with a somewhat lighter gait.

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In the medical bay, Wrex paced back and forth for what felt like hours. Finally stopping, he glared at the doors to the AI core where the female slept. Eve had given him an ultimatum.  _ ‘Dump the turian or lose the krogan leadership _ .’

He had fought tooth and claw to get to the top. Brought the clans together, single handedly. His frustrated growl sounded in the small space, and he was glad that everyone else was asleep or in Grunt’s case sedated. The massive male didn’t want a soul to see him like this.

Garrus would force him to talk. Tell him why. 

He couldn’t explain. Wouldn’t. The whelp would try to convince him it didn’t matter. Idealistic young pup would want to find a way for them to be together despite both their duties to their own species. There had to be some way to force him away. Make sure he’d never come crawling back.

Encouraging his relationship with the other turian would work. But there had to be a way to do it faster. Make him never come back. 

Mind made up, the Battlemaster stomped out of the medical bay. His dark red armor shining in the dimmed down lighting of the mess hall as he made his way up the stairs to the main battery where he knew Garrus would be sleeping.

It was a krogan method. But Wrex figured it would have a similar enough effect on a turian. He highly doubted it would make him come back for more at the least. And he knew Eve would approve. 

His entire species was depending on him. Killing his relationship with the turian, shoving him towards another male, shouldn’t matter in the face of that. It couldn’t.

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A few hours later Garrus had managed to fall into a deep sleep on his cot. The main battery was warm and dark, he was cocooned underneath his blankets, wearing only his light sleeping clothes. He stirred slightly when the door opened, a blue eye slitting open to see a silhouette in the doorway. “Adrien?” he asked, voice sleep lagged and groggy. 

The figure stepped inside, the door closing behind the too large figure, the door lock going red. “Not quite,” came Wrex’s familiar gruff tone. The lights brightening automatically at the movement. “Expecting him?”

Sitting halfway up, the sniper gave his head a quick shake to throw off the sleepiness. “No. Wasn’t expecting you either,” he admitted, sliding his feet to the floor rubbing at his forehead with one hand to block out the light, the other balanced on his knee. “Need me for something?”

“Yeah,” he said closing the distance between them. A bit imposing, still armored and most definitely more awake than the turian. Reaching down, he grabbed the front of Garrus’ cowl, pulling the turian to his feet. Garrus came willingly enough, more confused than anything. 

“What is it, Wrex?” he asked again, more assertiveness in his voice now, that, and a hint of annoyance at being woken and manhandled.

Vakarian did not, however, anticipate what would happen next. The Urdnot’s hand slid up to close around his throat, and he shoved him hard against the battery’s wall, beside the door. An audible clang sounding as his metallic carapace impacted the metal wall, knocking the breath out of him. The younger male barely managing to avoid smashing his fringe, tucking his chin down at the last second. 

His eyes went wide with shock, talons clawing uselessly at the krogan’s armored grip. Trying to get a hand between the older male’s gauntlet and his neck, desperate for air. Wrex held him there, hips pinning hips to the wall as well, Garrus’ feet dangling an inch too high off the floor. His bare feet scratching at red shin guards, hard enough to groove the reinforced ceramic plating.

“Wrex,” he choked out. “Wha… what the f-fuck ack… are... you doin’?” The sniper was used to fear, used to pain, but this? Was not what he’d ever anticipated. Not in his worst nightmares.

The clan leader’s face was suddenly beside his, taking a deep breath in through his nose. His free hand pinning one of Garrus’ to the wall. “You smell like him,” he growled. “You smell like him and you smell like blood.” 

Garrus started greying out, throwing his head into the krogan’s in a last ditch attempt to break free. Wrex didn’t budge at the headbutt, his skull much stronger than the turian’s, he did however let up slightly and allowed the younger male a half breath of oxygen before clamping down again. 

“I take care of you for years, and this is how you repay me, whelp?” With more force than necessary he threw the turian to the metal grating of the battery floor. Landing on his hands and knees, Garrus gasped for breath taking in greedy gasps of air. He was unable to react as Wrex followed him down, grabbing his arms and wrenching them behind his back, shoving his face into the floor he growled deeper, almost primal. 

“Fucking slut you are. Not just smelling of him, but reeking of him. Wearing his marks on you.” A free hand ran over the claw marks on his hips and the bites on his shoulder and neck. Pulling the shirt from him, the light fabric no match for a krogan.

“Wrex, Stop!” Garrus ground out between wheezed breaths. He struggled against the hold, kicking backwards, hitting his foot hard against an armor plated thigh.

The krogan ignored him, unfazed at the resistance. A rage having taken him over. He found the raw skin on the turian’s wrists last. “You let him tie you up?” he laughed. “Maybe I should start treating you the same? Like you’re a fucking toy to be used and thrown away.” He pulled down Garrus’ pants before unlatching his codpiece and dropping it to the floor beside the turian’s head. 

“What the fuck! Stop!” Garrus bucked as much as he could with the much larger alien pinning him down. His mostly healed leg complaining at the treatment, 160 kilos of krogan too much. “Wrex, we can talk this out. Stop. Spirits damn it, Wrex! Stop.”

“Begging?” he sneered. “The only thing I want to hear you beg for is my cock in your ass.” He probed the much younger male’s entrance with his, still gauntlet covered, fingers. The leather and metal unforgiving and unlubricated. 

An unexpected voice made them both freeze. “ _ Officer Vakarian, do you require assistance _ ?” EDI’s ever calm tone came clearly over the speakers. 

“He’s fine,” Wrex told her disembodied voice, looking up at the ceiling uselessly. Weight came down on his back, forcing the turian’s face further into the grating. A whispered voice in his ear. “Tell her everything is fine, or this alliance? Is over. I’ll take Mordin and the female and cure the krogan without you. Palaven will burn.”

Dread filled the ex-cop, a sinking feeling in his stomach. “I’m fine, EDI,” he coughed, loud enough for the microphone to pickup.

“ _ You do not appear to be,” _ the AI paused over the last word, “ _ Fine.” _

Wrex growled low, wrenching an arm further up the turian’s back causing him to grunt in pain and squirm to try and get the pressure off his rotator cuff. “Try again.”

Gritting his teeth, hard enough to bleed his gums, Garrus tried again. “We’re sparing. Nothing to concern anyone else with. Log me out, EDI.”  _ Please just logout, _ he thought to himself, pleading with her in his head.

“ _ Very well. Logging you out, Officer Vakarian.” _

When the com went silent again Wrex chuckled, low in his throat. “Close one. Now, where were we?” Questing fingers found their way back to his entrance, slightly slick with saliva this time. 

“Why are you doing this?” Garrus asked, trying for another tactic. “You’ve just got to ask, Wrex. You don’t have to force anything.” He tried to relax, but it didn’t last long. Garrus grunted as the older male managed to finally snake one finger between his sensitive plates, his entrance blocked behind the protective layer.

“Ask. Hah! Shows how much you understand me, turian.” He hummed, satisfied when he finally managed to penetrate his reluctant partner. “Krogan are territorial. Before your kind, before the genophage, we mated for life. Now we squabble over breeding rights. But you? You were mine. For years. You were the one mate I had that was mine and mine alone.”

“Wr… ahg… nhnn… st… stop...” Garrus struggled against the hold, groaning as Wrex shoved a second finger into him. Just as hard as the first. Painful and completely unnecessary. 

The Battlemaster didn’t let up, just kept on preparing his partner. He was beyond anger, but the turian had a mission in a few hours. He couldn’t break him completely. Just make sure that Garrus felt the pain he’d put him through. If not emotionally, then physically. “Shut up,” he demanded. “You’ll shut your damn mouth and take it like the little slut you are. Spreading your legs for the Primarch like some cheap asari whore. Who’s next on your list? Shepard? The Prothean?”

“You told...nhn… told me to! Fu… Fuck Wrex. Stop it... it hurts… ahn... “  

“SHUT UP!” Wrex roared again, pulling back on the sniper’s arms enough to get his face off the ground before throwing him back against the metal deck plating, putting his weight into it. A sickening crack echoed as a facial plate split.

Garrus grew still after that, rigid and quiet. Little gasps escaped every so often, but he stifled them as best he could. It didn’t take Wrex long to become bored of preparation, pulling his hand away, to replace it with his member, he pushed into the younger male. Slow and controlled, but unrelenting when he met resistance. Woefully under prepared and not the slightest bit aroused, the resulting, stifled screech was ugly and torn from the younger male’s throat.

His shoulders ached from the angle, his face mangled and bleeding steadily onto the deck plating was slow to clot, even with his cybernetics and augments. The longer Wrex pumped into him, the easier it got, obviously a bloody tear helping with lubrication. Soon his full length was buried inside the turian Advisor. Armored hips meeting bare plate, leaving bruises.

“This is what you’re good for, turian.” Wrex growled into the empty room, the hand not trapping his reluctant partner’s taking a hold of his hip. The too tight grip digging into the softer hide of his waist. “Stress relief.” He pounded in, speed increasing, the sound of his own enjoyment resounding against the metal walls. 

Finally having had enough, Garrus fought to speak. Damn the consequences. “You’re… nuh… lying. Fuc..fucking kidding yourself. Haaaa… mhnuh… you.. You cared about me, then… ah… you fucked it up…”

“I told you that you were mine!” he punctuated the words with a particularly nasty thrust, Garrus falling forwards on his face, knees collapsing under the massive krogan’s weight. “Told you that I don’t share. Told you it was just to clear his head.” He pulled out, finally releasing Garrus’ arms only to wrench him off the ground. Throwing him, face first, into the battery console. “Then you start bonding to him! He had a bomb on my planet, and he was taking you away from me.”

Given the space Garrus fought against Wrex, going for his unarmored face and neck with his talons. Playing dirty his only option, without weapons or armor of his own to protect him.

Unfortunately, Wrex was stronger than him, and just as willing to play that game by going for his injured leg. Taking the talon damage, knowing he’d heal quick enough regardless, to grab hold of his thigh with a massive hand and dig into the scarred over blade wound. Forcing him back against the main battery’s computer terminal, headbutting the turian and grabbing for his throat. His cry of pain just as loud as Garrus’ when his old teammate landed a deep gouge on his face, narrowly missing his right eye.  

The headbutt dazed the sniper enough that the Battlemaster managed to turn him around. Bending him over the terminal. Without mercy forcing his way in again, the angle easier against the battery computer than it was on the floor. He set a relentless pace, one hand in the centre of the turian’s back, pinning him down, the other aiding his thrusts, grabbing a hip. 

Wrex grew closer to orgasm with each thrust, rough treatment of his partner only adding to his pleasure in the bloodrage. A wicked smile passed his lips when an idea struck him. “Not enjoying yourself, slut?” He asked, sliding his hand from the turian’s hip to his seam. Garrus tensed below him, gasping at the gentle contact, such a stark contrast to the ruthless thrusts. “You know you are. Open for me.” 

Relieving himself of his gauntlet, pulling it off with his teeth and tossing it to the side, he turned his attention back to his partner’s reluctant anatomy. “Come on Garrus, you obviously like it rough. Why else would you let that turian prick tie you down?”

Garrus tried to pull away from the questing hand. “St… Stop it. That’s… ngh… fuck… not what happened. Not what… not… damn it get off!” He struggled to speak, pain making him dizzy, his body starting to react to the more gentle treatment even if his mind wasn’t. 

Wrex slowed his thrusts, draping himself down over the turian’s back. Teeth biting down on his shoulder, mocking him. “Then what was it?” he asked around soft bites, tongue laving after teeth.

“None of your fucking business!” Garrus stomped a foot down on the krogan’s booted foot, thrust an elbow back into his side. Neither maneuver phased him much, but the defiance sure did. 

“Fine. This is the last time I’ll ever fuck you. After this? You’re on your own.” He stood back up to his full height, thrusts becoming relentless once more. “Victus won’t want you when I’m done.” He slapped the turian’s ass, causing him to tighten more, and Wrex groaned. “That’s it. Take it all.”

Garrus hung his head, there was nothing else he could try. Well, nothing he could do on his own. Wrex had him pinned, he was stronger, armored, and in a much better position. He cursed his own uselessness. Giving everything he had to this war, including his dignity, was worse than he’d imagined. His relationship with Wrex in shattered pieces. All over the krogan’s ego. His inability to communicate. 

It didn’t take much longer for the Battlemaster to reach completion. His erection failing fast after filling the turian. He took a step back, allowing Garrus to fall to his knees. Grinning at the sight of his seed dripping from his partner. The smell of it, and the scent of fresh blood, driving him crazy. He grabbed the younger male’s jaw, almost pulling him into his crotch to clean the mess, but thinking better of it after he growled showing teeth. 

“Think that’s what I’ll miss most, filling your throat with my cock,” he chuckled, reaching down and sliding a finger through the puddling mess on the floor. He dug his fingers into the softer tissue of Garrus’ jaw, forcing his mouth open enough to thrust his cum covered fingers in. 

Garrus gagged, head reeling back. Wrex let him go, let him shuffle away with his ankles caught in his pants. Wrex laughed, grabbing his missing codpiece and gauntlet as he made for the door. Using the remains of Garrus’ shirt to wipe himself off. “Get some sleep, slut. Tomorrow you correct your people’s mistake.” 

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The battlemaster left his… ex… on the floor, not looking back. Only tossing a single packet of medigel at him before making for the medical bay. He’d been sleeping with Eve since she’d arrived on the Normandy in the AI core. He didn’t try to quiet his footsteps, knowing that the female was a light sleeper. Wanting her to know it was done. 

He was disgusted with himself.

“Wrex,” she greeted without opening her eyes. Annoyance obvious. “I trust you’ve overcome your turian problem?”

He began removing his armor. Knowing he smelled of blood and sex underneath it. He growled in reply, angry beyond what he’d expected to be. Garrus had looked so… betrayed. Like a solid force fucking wasn’t something he understood. 

Eve prompted him again when he laid down beside her, with his back to her. “Wrex?” 

“He won’t be a distraction anymore.”

“Good.”

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One deck up a very different conversation was occurring. 

A gentle, cool hand rubbed Jeff Moreau’s shoulder. He tried to brush it off, but the hand was insistent. Lightly shaking it when there was no reaction, he groaned. “Go away… mhm... “

“Jeff, I have a question.” EDI’s smooth voice announced quietly. “This cannot wait.”

His eyes opened, tiny slits glaring at her. “I know I’m supposed to sleep on the crew deck. I get it,” he said exasperated. “I’m fine here.” He rolled away as much as the chair allowed. 

“That is not why I woke you, although you would sleep better in crew quarters. I believe something untoward is happening, I am not certain how to react. I require assistance.”

Moreau hummed, giving up on sleep and sitting up with a yawn. “What’s going on?” he asked sincerely, stifling a yawn. 

“You are aware of Officer Vakarian’s relationship with Urdnot Wrex?” she asked in response. Gaining a held tilted in confusion and a nod as an answer. “I believe Garrus ended the relationship recently, Wrex has taken it… poorly.”

“Okay... “ Jeff drew out the word, still unsure of why EDI was bringing it up. “Going to need a little more information than that, hun.”

“I believe that Wrex is,” she paused, oddly hesitant. “Forcing himself on Garrus.”

His eyes grew wide and he sputtered. “What makes you think that?”

“He entered the main battery while Garrus was sleeping, threw him against a wall, did not stop when requested.” She paused again. “They are currently fighting.”

“Shit. Fuck. Uh… I am not suited to handle this, call Shepard. He’ll know what to do.” Joker stood up, hobbling towards the closed door to the rest of the CIC deck. EDI following. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“I believe that Wrex may have threatened Garrus to silence. I did intervene, but Garrus informed me at Wrex’s urging, that he was fine. They were sparing.”

Jeff stopped, a hand hovering above the door panel. “Are you sure, EDI? That this isn’t just… rough sex? I’ve watched enough porn to know turians...”

“I am sure,” the AI interrupted.

The pilot’s hand fell to his side, clenching into a fist. He understood his partner’s hesitance. Why she asked him instead of just calling Shepard immediately. “Is Garrus hurt?”

“Yes. Although, his vitals are stable and he is not in danger of lasting physical damage at this time.” Joker opened the door, walking as sure footed as possible to the elevator. EDI had it waiting for them. “What are we going to do, Jeff?”

He hit the button for the crew deck, still not quite sure what he was going to do. “Is… is it almost over?” The pilot knew he was no match for Wrex, hell, he was barely a match for a toddler. But, he could help after. 

“I believe so.”

“We’ll wait in here until he leaves, then we can help Garrus. There’s got to be a reason he didn’t ask for help.” A few minutes passed before footsteps echoed outside the elevator doors, footfalls so loud they could only belong to their resident krogan. “Where is he going?” he asked in a hushed whisper.

EDI opened the door, offering her arm to Jeff. “He is in the medical bay. The shutters are closed.” They were halfway up the main battery stairs when Joker stopped. “What is it?”

“Is he decent?” EDI cocked her head confused. “Is he wearing clothes?”

“Yes.”

“Ok... “ he took a deep breath. The doorlock a brilliant green, the doors sliding open when he got close enough. “Garrus?” he called out as he stepped in, eyes scanning for the turian, taking in the room. The sleep rumpled sheets, the blue blood on the floor and the console. “Garrus?” he asked again, stepping further into the room. The door closed behind him. 

“What do you want, Lieutenant?” his voice sounded tinny, coming from the lower level by the guns.

“Just came to see if you were okay, EDI said something was going on. You good? I can grab Chakwas or Shepard if you’d prefer...”

“No!” The turian shouted in answer. Still hiding. “Just… just leave. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” His voice shook, obviously afraid of something.

“You are not fine,” EDI spoke up. “I am detecting multiple lacerations, a mild concussion. You require medical assistance.”

“Garrus, buddy. Come on. I know what happened, kind of. Why didn’t you let EDI get Shepard?” He took a few steps forwards, stepping around the mess on the floor. “This didn’t need to happen.”

He looked over the railing to see Vakarian hunched down in a ball. The mountainous sniper looking as small as possible, arms wrapped around his knees. Hands stained blue. “I… I couldn’t…” he stopped, shaking his head.

“Give me something here, Garrus. Did he like… threaten you? Or the squad?”

“The Alliance,” he squeaked out. “Between the turians and the krogan. Said he’d back out.” He looked up finally, a streak of midnight blue dripping from the fresh split in his facial plate. “Shepard can’t know. He’d… I don’t know… but it wouldn’t be any good for the war. His focus needs to be on the Reaper. Not… this.” 

Jeff swallowed, steeling himself. He wasn’t good with blood. Nodding he took a few careful steps forwards, kneeling down a few feet away from the turian. “Alright. I won’t tell Shepard. But I’m not equipped to handle this, we need Karin.”

Shaking his head rapidly, Garrus disagreed. “No. Get Mordin.” EDI nodded to them, leaving to quietly fetch the professor. Not risking waking the crew in quarters by using her intercom. “You can go.” He said once the door had closed. “We’re not far from Tuchanka now.”

“I think I should stay, G. You’re uh… looking a little rough.” He stood up, reaching a hand down to the turian. “Maybe you’d be more comfortable on your cot?” 

Sighing he took the offered hand, careful of Joker’s frailty. Together they limped up the few steps, Joker offering a source of balance more than a relief for his weight. The pilot pointedly ignored the blood where Garrus had been sitting, thankful the black pants didn’t reveal the source. His imagination helpfully supplied it, regardless.

They waited in, mostly, companionable silence until EDI returned with Mordin. The salarian quietly set to work, not asking questions for once. Jeff waited as long as he could before leaving, understanding that the turian would want privacy for the next part. Garrus’ blank stare enough to give him shivers. 

He stopped in the washroom, long enough to be sick and clean up after himself. His gut roiled. EDI helped him back to the CIC and into his chair. Bringing him a bottle of water from his private stores at the back of the cockpit. 

“Are you alright, Jeff?” she asked. Her tone soft and comforting, one cool hand on his shoulder.

Pulling his hat down over his eyes, he shook his head. “No. But, Garrus is a hell of a lot worse than me. Why the fuck would Wrex do that?”

“I do not understand it either,” she replied, synthetic voice sorrowful. “I believe it may have something to do with the Primarch, but it is not clear. I am not versed in turian physiology.”

Jeff sighed. “Nothing we can do. Just… be there for him I guess. And not tell Shepard.”

“Understood.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 0_0
> 
> What the actual fuck just happened?


	8. Genophage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Normandy has arrived back at Tuchanka. The time to deploy the cure has arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for coming back!
> 
> It's time for a little more plot and a little more character development for Wrex. It's easy to look back, with rose tinted glasses, at ME3 and remember him as your best krogan buddy, jumping out on the Silversun strip to save your ass. But watching the scenes again, looking back, he's not as nice as I originally remembered, thus this arc was born.

Morning came much too soon, and with far too little sleep for many members of the  _ Normandy’s _ crew. Mordin had left Garrus alone in the main battery after seeing to his newly inflicted wounds, recommending that he both rest and remain off of the ground team. Also urging him to tell the Commander what had occurred. The stubborn turian had agreed to rest until he needed to armor up for the mission to Tuchanka, but no longer than that.

Shepard needed him, and now, more than ever, he needed to watch John’s back. Their krogan friend had become unstable, he couldn’t just standby and allow something to go wrong. Not when he had the ability to stop it. 

As for telling the Commander what had happened, he dismissed that idea flat out. His relationships wouldn’t be the reason this alliance failed. They would cure the genophage, and he would get krogan troops onto Palaven, even if it killed him. 

Instead of attending the morning briefing the sniper headed straight to the shuttlebay; he didn’t want to see Wrex sooner than he needed to. And he definitely didn’t want Adrien to see him as he was, limping and bruised. The Primarch had enough going on, Garrus didn’t want to add to his burden. His stomach knotted at the thought of it. He had wanted to tell the slate-grey turian about Wrex… but now? That seemed like an even worse idea.

When he returned from Tuchanka, Garrus would have to break off the relationship. His people’s leader deserved better than him, even before Wrex had forced their coupling the night prior. Now the decision, although painful, was easy. He couldn’t bond with the Primarch. He refused to subject him to that.

+-+-+

Shepard was fully geared when he marched into the war room, a grim look on his face. He looked around the room: Mordin, Wrex and Adrien. He knew Liara would be busy gearing up, she’d always taken more time than the rest, but He was taken aback to find that Garrus was missing. The turian had attended all their other mission briefs. It struck him as odd, but he tuned into the conversation when the salarian addressed him. Deciding to look into it later.

“New form of Reaper, Shepard. Using shroud to poison Tuchanka’s atmosphere. Problematic.” His eyes were shifty, which was typical for the salarian, but something about his mannerism felt... off. For now, the human ignored it. 

“They want a fight, they just got one!” Wrex announced, sounding more amped up than usual. Smashing a fist into an open palm. The Commander looked up at him, shaking his head in somewhat frustrated disapproval, noticing a new scar on the krogan’s face. Just under his right eye. It was fresh.

_ ‘Strange…’ _ he noted before turning to the sole turian in the room. “Primarch, we’re going to need your help.”

“You have my air support, Commander. As promised.” He answered calmly, as always. Stepping forwards, he places his palms on the console, giving his full attention. “What do you have in mind?” 

Shepard dropped into an explanation of the plan, Mordin adding details where required reference the arrangements for both Eve and the cure. A combined ground and air strike on the Reaper with Shepard’s small strike team on delivery duty. They would get the cure to the shroud. “Everyone on board?” he asked once finished.

“There’s even a doubt?” Wrex huffed, already moving for the doors. “Let’s move, pyjak. It’s time to cure the genophage.”  

Turning to follow the rest of the team, the human biotic stopped when he heard Traynor’s voice over the com unit. She’d called to let him know there was an urgent message for him on the QEC. He headed there instead, trusting that his squad would be armored and ready by the time he reached the shuttlebay. Once the door closed behind him, he looked up at the hologram and was taken slightly aback. “Dalatrass? He asked, surprised.

“Commander Shepard, we know you’ve reached Tuchanka.” She began in an even tone. “And, by now, I imagine Mordin Solus has proposed using the Shroud.”

“Are you spying on us?” he asked, incredulously. 

She scoffed. “Hardly. The Shroud is the only viable course of action open to you. Commander, you can’t allow your misguided sympathy for the krogan to cloud your judgment. Do you honestly believe curing the genophage will end in lasting peace?”

“I… I’m not sure. The krogan are still too violent, but I don’t have a choice here. We need the krogan and they won’t assist unless they have a cure.”

“Then allow me to offer you a solution,” the salarian’s voice changed in that moment. Becoming malevolent, almost. “Years ago, our operatives sabotaged the Shroud facility to ensure what you’re planning couldn’t be done. Mordin will likely detect this malfunction and repair it. But if you ensure that he doesn’t, the cure’s viability will be altered just enough so that it fails. No one will notice the change….”

Humming in understanding, the soldier nodded. “You mean trick the krogan?”

“They need not be the wiser,” she said, voice betraying her love for the idea. “Let Urdnot Wrex believe you fulfilled your promise.”

“Mordin would never stand for that.”

“How you deal with him is up to you, Commander. We can provide you our very best scientists to build the Crucible… and the full support of our fleets.” The offer fully laid out, was tempting. Shepard had to admit that at the least. But it would mean betraying one of his oldest friends. Stopping his adoptive son from having a chance at children in the near future. There was always the possibility of rebuilding and curing the genophage later, once the krogan were truly ready...

“If I sabotage the cure.”

She nodded. “Think about it, Commander. The choice is yours.”

+-+-+-

The lift opened to the shuttlebay and Commander Shepard stepped inside. He was right in assuming that his team would be ready, Liara held his assault rifle out to him when he reached her. Clipping it into place on his back he flagged Cortez down, quickly discussing the game plan with him. 

Liara gave his hand a quick squeeze before she left him to it, hopping into the shuttle behind Garrus. Wrex was still busying himself with the female and Mordin, fussing over her like one would a child, to her obvious frustration. He just shook his head at that, smiling just a bit. It was almost endearing to see. The only other time he’d seen Wrex emote so much was at seeing Garrus again on Tuchanka, after Grunt’s rite. 

He left them to it, entering the shuttle with his pilot. Steve heading for the cockpit while Shepard found his seat beside Liara, across from Garrus. A stark white bandage on his cheek, under his visor covered eye. “Garrus, what the hell?” 

Leaning back in his seat, he shrugged with a single arm as he’s always done since Omega. “Cracked a plate. No big deal.”

“Uh… yeah. That kind of is, what did you do to yourself?” he asked, concerned. The turian was about to answer when Wrex cut him off, entering the shuttle with Mordin and his charge. 

“Probably tripped, or something else stupid.” He grunted as he sat down nearest the door, Eve and Mordin sitting between him and Garrus. 

Had Shepard not been watching, he’d have missed the slight flinch his friend made at the krogan’s proximity. “Was adjusting the wiring under the thanix, misjudged the placement of a support beam. I’m fine.”

The excuse was bullshit as far as the Commander was concerned. A sniper didn’t just  _ misjudge  _ a distance like that. He held his tongue for now, determined to figure out what the hell was going on later. Maybe check in with Mordin as well, the salarian seemed just as jumpy. “Be more careful next time, I’d rather you not dent my canon.”

Garrus nodded. “Sure, Shepard.” He agreed before falling silent.

The next half hour was quiet. Cortez took them into Tuchanka’s turbulent atmosphere, holding them as steady as he could. The ship’s inertial stabilizers only able to compensate so much for the howling winds and convective cloud activity. It seemed as though there was always a rainless thunderstorm brewing on the planet’s surface. Lightning flashing and thunder booming. 

Wrex stood up when their pilot gave them the five minute warning. Holding onto the handrail, eyes on Shepard. “I’ve ordered the clans to assemble at the Hollows. It’s our sacred meeting ground. We’ll land there and take an armored convoy against the Reaper.” Shepard nodded, about to speak when Wrex decided to reverently add something. “This will be the defining moment of krogan history.”

Shaking his head, Mordin scoffed. “Krogan history filled with defining moments, mostly bloody, hope this one better.” Shepard eyed him critically, thinking back to his conversation with the Dalatrass. He was seriously considering her offer.

“Commander you seem troubled,” Eve said from her seat beside Wrex’s empty one. All but her eyes shielded by her veil, her expression difficult to discern.

“There’s just a lot on the line, I want this to go well.” He replied shortly.

“Have faith,” she said encouragingly. “No matter the adversity we face, some moments are destined to happen. This is one of them.”

Commander Shepard might have replied by a static buzzed sounded over the com unit. A gruff krogan voice, wind whistling and the telltale sound of Reaper troops groaning behind it.  _ “Wrex, it’s Wreav! The Reapers are already at the Hollows! Come out guns blazing.” _

“Hang on tight! We’re heading in!” Steve called out from the cockpit, hands flying across the controls, sending them into the fray. Bullets ricocheted off the hull, the weather buffeting them. Shepard stood, grabbed hold of the nearest grab bar, surveying his team. Once they’d gotten through the worst of it, low enough into cover, he checked his assault rifle. Snapping a clip into place. 

Liara was doing the same, already on her feet. Wrex was making his way to the door, getting ready to clear them some space when they landed. His eyes fell on Garrus, still seated in the furthest corner of the shuttle, not looking at anyone, especially not at Wrex. The human wanted to ask him what was up, but now wasn’t the time. Instead he clipped his helmet into place as the door opened.

Wrex jumped down the last few feet to the ground, gun out, already blasting away. “Shepard, keep those things away from the female! I’ll sort out what’s happening with the other clans!” Without waiting for an answer he charged off, leaving them to cover Eve. 

Following the krogan’s example, Shepard jumped out as well. Liara and Garrus following without hesitation, weapons up and quickly they began blasting away the competition. The Commander still hadn’t decided what to do… it wouldn’t matter if they couldn’t get to the Shroud. So he fought for that goal, for now. 

+-+-+-

They fought through a few waves of Reaper forces before managing to unite with the other krogan. Wrex was quick to greet them, voice strong and commanding. “They’ll sing battle-songs about this someday. Reaper blood has finally soaked our soil.” The rest of the krogan roared with him, enthused with the prospect. 

“We have to get to the Shroud,” Shepard cut him off, sick of the theatrics. “The airstrike is on its way.”

Mordin followed him into the Hollows. Announcing Eve’s status. “Female safe, Shepard. Recommend haste, however - vital signs troubling.”

“What’s a salarian doing here?” Wreav and his crew marched down from the rafters. The Commander warily looked them over, noticing some had Bloodpack markings on their suits of armor. That wasn’t a good sign. As far as he’d known, Urdnot had cut ties with the gang shortly before he’d been revived. Seeing them here now was concerning. “Nobody said anything about this!” Wreav growled.

“Multiple krogan. Problematic.” The salarian paled. 

“Who are you?” Shepard demanded, stepping in front of his salarian teammate. 

“Urdnot Wreav, brood brother to our…” he paused a moment before finishing his own introduction. Voice dripping with sarcasm. “...Illustrious leader.” 

Growling Wrex cut in. “Wreav and I share the same mother. And nothing else.”

“For which I’m thankful. I remember what it means to be a true krogan. We flay our enemies alive and drown them in a geyser of their own blood. We don’t invite them into our home. Our beds.” He laughed.

Wrex was seething, but it was Shepard who put the younger krogan in his place. “There’s no time for this. Whatever grudge you have against salarians ends right now.” 

“As long as it involves a bullet in his head. Time for some payback!” He charged forwards, quickly stopped by Wrex who headbutted him hard, knocking him back. Wrex was larger than the newcomer, his weight easily throwing him backwards.

“Stand down, Wreav!” he growled. “The salarian is with me.”

“All of these aliens are with you! You’ve forgotten what it is to be krogan!”

It looked as though they were about to have a full out brawl between krogan brothers. It only stopped at the female’s behest. “Enough!” she yelled from the stairs, having left the shuttle to deal with her clansmen. “You can stay here and let old wounds fester as krogan have always done… or you can fight the enemy you were born to destroy - and win a new future for our children. I choose to fight. Who will join me?”

Shepard looked from her, back to the krogan males. “I don’t want to regret curing the genophage. Do you want this or not?” He asked them. 

“I do.” Wrex snarled. “What about the rest of you?” 

Roaring in agreement the argument ceased. They had more important things to worry about now. Unfortunately, Shepard was just now seeing, first hand, how flimsy a hold Wrex had over his fellow krogan. It did not bode well for their cure, their future, or this war. Eve did have some kind of power over the males, maybe with her around they’d be under control.

+-+-+-

The trek to the Shroud was taking longer than Shepard had hoped. Krogan tanks slow, over the uneven terrain. Even the main roads on this planet were pitted with potholes and refuse. The human Commander was beginning to see why the rest of the galaxy thought so little of them. He sighed as Wrex kept going on and on about their future, he was waffling now, the line between right and wrong becoming marred and grey.

What was best for the krogan might not be best for the galaxy. He grit his teeth.

Mordin seemed to have finally had enough when Wrex started on about glory and plans for expansion. “ **Glory** of ancients led to krogan rebellions. Countless deaths. Creation of genophage. Expansion plan… problematic.”

The human hummed in agreement. “Any hint of the krogan trying to expand could raise alarms.”

Wrex sneered, taken aback by the sudden disagreement. “My children aren’t going to suffocate in this cesspool. I want them to witness a new age… a krogan empire!”

“Wrex!” Eve shouted his name, admonishing him. 

He just shrugged. “What? I’m not saying we won’t ask first. But the council can’t expect us to stay here forever.” 

Shepard regarded him, eyes narrowed. ‘ _ Strike two, one more and you’re out, Wrex.’  _

The female pulled him from his thoughts. “There’s that look in your eye again commander, what’s troubling you?”

“Just thinking about earth,” he lied. Suddenly realising that maybe the female wasn’t as sincere as she’d been making herself out to be. Was she just shutting Wrex up out of habit, or covering for him?

“Your courage for my people will be remembered. You won’t be alone in your fight.” 

A sudden jerk had both Shepard and Wrex on their feet. “Why are we stopping?” the krogan growled, banging a hand on the door to the cockpit. The driver let him know the lead car was stopping, he turned to Shepard. “Get out there and see what’s going on!”

Shepard huffed, not used to taking orders. He placed a hand to his ear, radioing his teammates in the tank behind them. “Liara, Garrus. Meet me outside.” They acknowledged him and he hopped out. Rounding the massive tires to find the others. “Wrex, you and Mordin stay with Eve. It’s looking ugly out here!”

_ “Will do.” _

Both his squadmates fell into line behind him as he headed for the front of the convoy. The bridge apparently having been blown apart, a scout was surveying the damage. His faith in the krogan failing even more. He was immediately on his com unit, calling for the turian airstrike to hold. The ground troops were already behind, this setback would make them miss the fight all together. “Turian wing Artimec, this is Shepard. We’ve been delayed - hold off your attack!”

_ “Negative, Commander! _ ” Came the lead fighter’s flanging voice. “ _ Our approach is locked. The Reaper already knows we’re here!” _

Eight of the turian fighters passed low over their position, joining the rest coming in from the north side. “They can’t handle a Reaper alone,” Garrus growled, taking a few steps forwards to stand beside Shepard. “We gotta get in there.”

“Damn it! I don’t care if we have to build a new road. We’re going!” the Commander yelled at the krogan scout. Helplessness sinking in as he watched the turians circle the Reaper. One getting blown from the skies, sending it hurtling towards the convoy.

“Oh shit!” 

_ “I’ve lost control! I can’t pull up!” _ the pilot was shouting into his com unit. 

The Commander started running. “Move!” he yelled at his team. They followed, all three of them getting thrown when the ship impacted the convoy. Into his com unit he raised the lead tank. “Wrex, get the female out of here, now! Go!” It wasn’t safe. He swapped frequencies. “Artimec, do you copy?”

“We have to abort, Commander! That Reaper’s tearing us to pieces!”

Shepard pulled his assault rifle out as he replied. The krogan convoy long gone, they’d have to follow on foot. “Understood! Save your pilots - we’ll find another way!”

Liara was quick to speak up. “There’s a tunnel over there! Could be a way off!”

+-+-+-

Through the tunnels they went. Finding dead Reaper ground troops and forgotten krogan history. Once they’d managed to get outside Shepard asked Liara to try and raise the convoy, jerking his head to the side, asking for a moment alone with his turian teammate. The asari was understanding, giving them some distance as she pulled up her com.

“Garrus,” the Commander began. “I need you to be honest with me. Did Wrex do that?” he gestured to his face. The turian stiffened, and was about to reply when he preemptively added. “Don’t lie to me. Did Wrex hit you?”

“Yes.” Garrus looked away. Refusing to meet his eyes as he clenched his jaw, mandibles tight to his face and his hands gripping tighter to his sniper rifle.

“Why?”

He didn’t want to answer, he may have been a bad turian, but he still was one. “He was angry.” Shepard made a military hand signal, asking him to continue, elaborate. The sniper closed his eyes a moment, when he opened them he looked straight into his best friend’s. “He decided he didn’t approve of my relationship with Victus and ended ours.”

Shepard nodded and might’ve replied, but Liara had managed to get in contact with the krogan. He broke off for now. ‘ _ Strike three, Wrex.’ _

+-+-+-

Eventually they managed to join back up with the convoy. Finding the mother of all thresher maw’s, Kalros, along the way. A plan formed quickly, they would use her to take down the Reaper. Unconventional, but hopefully effective. 

As a team they avoided the Reaper’s fire. Artimec wing managing to take some of the heat off them, while they worked to activate the Maw hammers. The ancient krogan technology that would call a thresher maw from the ground.

Brutes and other Reaper forces were thrown at them. The fight taking all their ammunition and some creativity. Liara’s biotics combined with Garrus’ tech worked wonders on their armor and shields, while Shepard worked on crowd control. Together they managed to hit both hammers and could only watch in awe as Kalros herself sprang from the ground, screeching and fierce.

Once she’d managed to take it underground, back to her domain to devour, Shepard called out to his squad. “Go! I’ll take care of the cure!”

He ran for the Shroud facility. Dreading what he was about to do.

+-+-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun da. 
> 
> Were you expecting this? Let me know in the comments!


	9. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard makes a decision that will change the course of the war. Feeling secure in his decision after seeing what has become of his friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one flowed beautifully. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! As a warning, I cried. In some ways I hope this makes you do too.

Running for the laboratory was nerve wracking. Commander Shepard reached the base of the Shroud facility just as his salarian teammate came sprinting to the controls from the labs. He shouted over the howling winds and the loud crashing of debris from the damaged tower. “Mordin, is the cure ready?”

He made it to the salarian’s side. “Yes. Loaded for dispersal in two minutes. But Eve dead.” Mordin spoke quickly, voice strained as he occupied himself with the console.

“What happened?” Shepard demanded. If he hadn’t been sure a few moments ago what he was going to do, then he was positive now. Without the female, Wrex’s hold on the krogan was too loose.

“Stress sampling too intense. Too much trauma. Wanted to stop. She refused. Her decision.”

The Commander nodded in understanding. “A lot of people died today, Mordin, there’s nothing we can do.” He reached out a hand to put on his friend’s shoulder, but dropped it partway. This wasn’t the time for comfort.

“Female was stabilizing force for krogan. Wrex will be alone. Implications from earlier interactions with Wreav… problematic.” Some debris fell nearby and Shepard swore. Solus ignored him. “Control room at top of Shroud tower. Must take elevator up.”

“You’re going up there?” he did grab the salarian’s shoulder this time. Turning him around so they were face to face. “You can’t.”

“Must,” he argued. “Readings at lab suggest temperature malfunction. Could affect cure viability. Need to adjust settings manually.”

Shaking his head, Shepard said. “It’s too dangerous Mordin. We need to get out of here.”

“No!” he pulled away. “Temperature variance could destroy cure! Time running out! Have to go up!” Starting for the elevator only stopping at the defeated voice of his former Commander.

“It’s not a malfunction.” He said, voice not wavering. “It’s sabotage. Your people did it years ago.” Shepard looked away, ashamed. When he managed to drag his eyes up, Mordin was considering the new information, staring at him. Muttering to himself. So Shepard continued. “The dalatrass offered me a deal: her full support for the Crucible project.”

Mordin sighed. “Difficult moral circumstance. Salarian assistance reluctant, minimal. Need their loyalty for intel, assistance with crucible. Understandable, but not acceptable. Will not sacrifice krogan for political gain.”

He had to stop Mordin, so he tried another avenue. Playing on his past certainty that the genophage was the right call. “Every time we’ve talked about this before, you’ve defended the genophage. Hell, you destroyed Maelon’s data! How can you change your mind now?”

“I made a mistake!” Mordin all but screamed back at him. He took a breath, a rare feat for the salarian. When he spoke again it was quiet, more reserved. “I made a mistake. Focused on big picture. Big picture made of little pictures. Too many variables. Can’t stop now. Gone too far. Eve dead. Krogan deserve a cure.”

“I agree, Mordin… but not now.”

“If not now, when?”

Shepard shook his head. “Someday. But when we stop the Reapers, this whole galaxy will need time to recover.” He closed the gap between them again, placating him. “Wreav won’t give us that time. He’ll force more krogan to his side. Then attack while the rest of us are weak.”

“Eve would have stopped him. Helped Wrex control krogan. Gotten rid of Bloodpack.”

“Eve isn’t here.” Shepard solemnly told his counterpart. 

“No.” Mordin was defeated. “Suggest we let krogan believe dispersal was a success. Ensure alliance. Will need to disappear to keep story accurate. Wrex will think I died at tower, hopefully. Curing genophage.”

Commander Shepard gritted his teeth. “Doing what had to be done.”

He sniffed. “Thank you. Too eager to atone. Wrex’s recent actions should have been evidence enough of failure. Will find way off planet. Help Crucible project. May not see you again. Hope can return one day. Fix this.” 

“I hope so, too.” Shepard replied before turning away. He heard the elevator doors close and Mordin leave. He just hoped he’d gotten this right. 

+-+-+-

They stayed on planet long enough for Wrex to collect Eve’s body. Setting her ablaze in the hollows, as per krogan tradition. She died a saviour to her people, the shaman calling her the true mother of Tuchanka. Most of the krogan disbursed after the shaman was finished, Wrex stayed to watch the flames.

Liara went off to fetch the shuttle, leaving Shepard and Garrus at the krogan’s side. It took a few minutes, but the flames made short work of her. It was Wrex who broke the quiet once she was no longer recognizable. “She was everything I wanted the krogan to be. I hope we follow her example.”

“I’m sorry for her loss.” Shepard replied. “You can never know who will survive war and who won’t.”

The krogan growled, low in his throat, shooting a glare at the Commander. “Unless you have a hand in it. Maelon’s research might’ve saved her.”

Shepard watched as Garrus’ hand twitched towards his pistol, waving him off with a slight shake of his head. “We’ll never know.”

“I won’t hold a grudge, Shepard. You’ve proven you’re still a friend to the krogan,” he sneered at the turian, obviously the sentiment didn’t extend to Garrus and that confused the Commander. He was about to try for an answer when Wrex turned to Garrus. “Tell your Primarch I’ll be deploying troops to Palaven, as promised.”

“Understood,” Garrus nodded without taking his eyes off Wrex. A look passed between them that the human couldn’t discern.

“Shepard, when you’re ready to kick the Reapers off of Earth? You let me know.” He laughed, reaching a hand out to shake Shepard’s. “The krogan are back in business.” When he released it he looked past him, back at the turian again. “Mind if I borrow him a moment?”

The Commander glanced back at Garrus, and let him reply on his own. “It’s fine, Shepard. I’ll be right there.” The human looked between them one more time before nodded and saying goodbye. The shuttle was just landing now, he wouldn’t be far if Vakarian needed him.

Once Shepard was out of earshot, Garrus took a step towards the krogan. Keeping his voice low as he growled. “We’re done, Wrex. I held up my end of the bargain, I saved your people, now it’s your turn.”

“I don’t know about that. Eve wanted me to kill you. Said you made me soft. Took forcing myself on you to prove to her that I wasn’t. I might need to prove it to the others,” he grinned.

“Try it, and I’ll claw your spirits damned eyes out...”

“Hah. You can try, whelp.”

Garrus shook his head, trying to let go of the anger for a moment. “What the hell happened to you, Wrex?”

“I realised where my loyalties should have been,” he replied, sounding bitter. Almost as though he regretted what he’d done, despite making light of it. “I might have cared about… us… once. But you ruined that. The first chance you got, you went back to your own kind.”

The turian couldn’t stop himself from interrupting, stepping closer and shoving an accusing finger into the krogan’s chest. “Bullshit. I waited for you for months while you were off screwing every available krogan female under the guise of mating requests. Then we get back together on the ship, YOU tell me to help Adrien and suddenly it’s my fault?”

“Of course it is!” he roared back. Barely contained rage making him shove Garrus away. “You were mine! He took you away! You made me weak in front of my people!”

“So you decided to what?” he spat back. “Take revenge? Hurt me? Make sure that I could never be with Adrien because of what you’d done. Couldn’t ever bond to him because you’d taken my honor when I let you rape me?”

“Enough!” Shepard yelled, having run back over. He hadn’t wrapped his mind around his best friend’s words quite yet, not letting himself believe it. “Garrus, we’re leaving.” He grabbed the turian’s arm. 

The sniper turned at the contact, tensing, but he managed not to flinch away. “Understood, Commander.” He shrugged the human’s arm off, making for the shuttle, only to stop a few paces away. “I loved you once, Wrex. You ruined that, not me.”

Shepard turned and followed the turian back to the shuttle, leaving Wrex in stunned silence.

+-+-+-+- 

The shuttle ride back to the  _ Normandy _ was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop. Liara tried to break the silence once, not having heard the exchange between her old crewmates, only seen the altercation from a distance, but a quick shake of Shepard’s head had stopped her. “Later,” he’d said and she agreed before falling back to silence.

Commander Shepard dismissed his team to the showers when they reached the ship, the dirt and grime from the Reaper ground troops, not to mention Tuchanka’s dust, permeated their armor. He took the asari to his cabin with him, needing her presence to keep him calm.

Their resident sniper said nothing, only nodding and heading for the Main Battery to divulge himself of his own gear. He hadn’t wanted anyone more to know what had happened, but now Shepard did. Joker, EDI and Shepard. Mordin was dead. Eve was dead. And Wrex? Was dead to him, too. 

It took the better part of an hour for the turian to clean his gear and repair it. The dirt had worked it’s way into seemingly every crevice of his armor. Each chink in his rifle. It didn’t help his hands were slow, exhaustion gripping him tightly. Once he’d finished he headed for the showers, leaving the fresh coat of sealant to dry while he did so, wanting to wear his armor to the post mission briefing. Anything that would help keep Adrien from smelling the krogan scent he couldn’t seem to get rid of, and seeing the bruises. The ones that he couldn’t explain away on his hips. Or the teeth marks on his shoulder.

He was in the shower until it grew cold on him, having slumped against the wall instead of focusing on getting clean for the first few minutes. He did his best to clean the krogan off of himself, unsure at this point if the lingering smell was in his nose or on his plates. He shuddered. 

“ _ Officer Vakarian _ ,” came EDI’s soft voice after he’d shut the water off, still refusing to leave the stall. “ _ The Primarch has requested your presence in the War Room. Shall I tell him you’re occupied?” _

He sighed,  _ duty calls _ . “No. Tell him I’ll be there shortly.”

“ _ Understood, logging you out.” _

With a reason to move, other than the fact he was starting to shiver, Garrus left the stall. Drying himself perfunctorily and making for the battery once he’d dressed in a fresh set of under armor. Normally he’d forgo it, choosing his loose workout gear instead, but with the bruising he’d chosen to clothe more fully. 

He’d have to see Karin about it eventually, now that Mordin was gone. And he hated himself for thinking that. Putting his own shame ahead of the fact his friend was dead.

By the time he’d reached the War Room it was almost the ship’s morning cycle. Their mission had taken them most of the previous day, the funeral into late evening, and post mission duties until late night. The debrief could have waited till morning, but he understood Victus’ want to have it sooner rather than later.

He’d been given no reason for the delay. 

The Primarch looked up when Vakarian entered. A welcoming expression on his face, that fell quickly when he locked eyes on his Advisor. He hadn’t hidden his exhaustion well enough, apparently. 

“Garrus,” he hummed an apologetic note, meeting him halfway around the War Room’s holographic display. “Are you alright? What happened here?” he reached out to touch his cheek and the sniper flinched back, remembering too late the dirty white bandage on his face.

Adrien mistook it for pain, but it had been the contact itself that he’d shied away from.

“Primarch,” he greeted once he’d reclaimed his bearings. “The mission was a success. We have krogan support.”

“Mhm. I was informed on your success, EDI was kind enough to provide me with a mission summary.” The AI’s voice came over the com, acknowledging him. 

“I’m glad to see you, I missed you this morning.” He closed the distance between them, hands on the younger male’s shoulders and dark grey mouth plates about to their lighter match when the sniper grew stiff under his touch. Frozen and uncomfortable. The elder male pulled back, confused. “Garrus? What is it?” 

Adrien sounded hurt by the refusal. And it made the ex-vigilante feel even worse. He stepped backwards, nearly tripping over himself as he shook his head. Trying to find words to explain. Garrus was saved from replying by the sound of the doors opening again. Shepard strode in, looking tired, but relaxed in his Alliance fatigues. Smelling of Liara’s soap.

The blue and silver armored turian watched as Adrien’s expression shifted from concern to business, letting it drop to give his attention to the newcomer. “Commander, Urdnot Wrex has begun sending troops to Palaven.” He smiled and kept his voice light. “You kept your end of the bargain, and now I’ll keep mine.” Stepping forwards he took the human’s hand in his own. “The turian Hierarchy will stand with humanity against the Reapers.”

“We’re going to need you, don’t forget where we live.” Shepard took his hand in kind, releasing it after a companionable shake.

Nodding, the turian Primarch agreed. “Never. It’s clear we all fight together. Or die. To that end, several drydock ships are ready to help build the Crucible.” He turned to his Advisor. “Garrus will coordinate them.”

The other turian nodded once. “Yes, sir.”

“And when the time comes to deploy it? The full measure of our fleet will be there for Earth. May the Spirits watch over us all.” Adrien looked from the Commander, back to Garrus. “When you’ve finished your debriefing, I’d like to speak with you in my quarters, Vakarian.”

“Of course, sir.” He replied quietly. Victus seemed to think it was enough and he excused himself. Telling the Commander to get some rest on his way out.

The heavy metal doors to the War Room closed behind the older turian. Leaving the pair in silence. Shepard rested his hands on the main console, patient for the moment.

It was Garrus who broke the silence once they were alone. “I’ll start managing turian support right away, Shepard.” He paused a split second, before continuing to try and fill the empty space. “You must be exhausted... Mordin dying, it can’t be easy.” 

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” he sighed, trying, and failing, at humor. “You’d think two years would have been enough.”

Garrus hummed in agreement. “We both know you need a clear head to win a war. You should catch some shuteye. Besides,” he shrugged singled-armed. “I know where you sleep. We’ll wake you if anything comes up.”

“If you insist.” He relented, making for the doors as well. But he didn’t leave just yet, stopping at the base of the stairs. “Tell me one thing first, Garrus. Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?” he dodged the question, trying to delay the inevitable. He was a good liar, for a turian, but he was also a good enough turian that if asked directly, by not just his superior, but his best friend, his sense of duty would only allow him to evade the question for so long.

“He did more than hit you, didn’t he?” the Commander clarified. Ensuring he wouldn’t be misunderstood and giving the turian a yes or no version of the question, no room for ambiguity.

The silence was enough to let the human know it was true. But Garrus found words soon enough. “Don’t ask questions that you don’t want to hear the answer to, John.”

Shepard closed his eyes and dipped his chin down to his chest. “He won’t hurt you again,” he said finally.

“I know.” 

+-+-+-+-

Garrus staying in the War Room for another twenty minutes or so, sending out the orders he’d arranged for the turian ships they’d earmarked for the Crucible project. Had he not been so tired it would have taken him half the time, but his dread of going below deck to see the Primarch may have also contributed to his slow pace. 

When there was nothing more he could do, the turian carefully made his way to the elevator. He moved stiffly from too much time in combat that day, and his still healing injuries combined with a few new ones from the day. A brute’s claws were no laughing matter, as his shoulder reminded him. His shoulder pauldron had saved him from bleeding but the cracked plate ached, and he knew he’d have to visit Karin in the morning. Had he been a better turian, he might’ve seen her that night.

His feet carried him to the Primarch’s door and, before he could think better of it, he knocked. It slid open smoothly, Adrien’s voice beckoning him inside. 

The sniper couldn’t help but take a long look at his partner. He was dressed down already, his tunic unbuttoned, undershirt half untucked from his pants, feet bare as he leaned casually back against the table, turned desk. “Garrus,” he greeted warmly, more so than earlier, not taken aback at his appearance this time. “I was hoping you’d have come to me earlier. I’ve missed you.”

Shaking his head, Vakarian managed to drag his eyes from the older male. “I need to talk to you, Primarch. I’ve made a decision.”

“I’d hoped you would. You make patience difficult,” he pushed himself off the desk, sub vocals warm and inviting. He took a few paces across the room, looking predatory as he backed Garrus into the wall.

“I can’t.” The ex-cop managed as his back touched the wall with a dull clunk, metal hitting metal.

Adrien stopped, looking at him in confused. Taken aback by the refusal. “Why not?” Apparently, he’d been expecting a resounding yes, not to be denied. Slate grey hands were on either side of the younger turian’s head, pinning him to the wall with his gaze. Though, the sniper was observant enough to see his talons twitched with the temptation to physically hold him there.

“There’s too much in my past. It isn’t fair to you.” Garrus replied, voice tight.

“I told you already - nothing in your past matters to me,” he was angry. He didn’t quite yell, but his sub vocals were laced with that anger now, undertones of hurt.

The ex-vigilante shook his head again, eyes firmly on the floor and the edge of his throat bared in surrender. “You don’t understand. I… I’m not what you seem to think I am. I’d ruin your career if some of those things ever got out.”

“Tell me.”

“What?”

Adrien did pull one of his hands from the wall then, taking his Advisor’s face in it. The sniper flinched and he could see the hurt he caused in that golden gaze. More pain than he’d thought one tiny movement could ever cause. 

“Tell me what has you so afraid, Garrus. You can’t even look at me. What happened from our morning in the War Room to now? You can’t speak without stuttering. Flinch when I touch you. Tell me, please.” He framed it as a request, but when the glacial-eyed turian didn’t reply he rephrased. “If you need it to be order, I can make it one.”

Garrus swallowed. “It’ll be easier to show you.” 

Adrien hummed in approval, stepping back to allow the younger male to bypass him. Walking to the desk, he began removing the heavy metal and ceramic plating. Each piece a physical weight off of him while feeling like he was just digging a knife further into himself. When he was down to his undersuit he stopped. Still not looking at the Primarch. “Are you sure you want to know? You won’t feel the same about me after I do this.”

He didn’t know what was going on in his partner’s head. Adrien stepped up to his side, not touching him, but was close enough that he could feel the heat radiating off his plates. “Nothing will change how I feel, Garrus. Go ahead,” he encouraged.

With a simple nod, the sniper unclasped the snaps of his under armor. Shedding it from his shoulders and chest, pulling it off his arms slowly. The ex-general watched him patiently, eyes immediately falling on the cracked plate of his shoulder. He reached out, hand stopping centimeters from his hide. “What happened here?”

Garrus shook his head. “Brute. Not important.” He tilted his head to the side, and Adrien eyed the strange indentations inside his cowl, the deep bruising on his throat. When the sniper figured he had a good enough look there, he pulled off the bandage covering his split faceplate. 

The Primarch didn’t understand and he said as much. Garrus tried to speak but couldn’t, instead he finished pulling off his shirt, dropping it onto the table with his armor. The tops of his hips jutted out from under his pants when he drew them down slightly. Deep purple bruises marred them too, and these were vaguely hand shaped. 

Garrus watched the change in his expression. The realisation hitting that he’d been screwing someone else.

“Who?” he asked, sub vocals held tight as to not betray his feelings.  

He shook his head. “Not important.” Taking a step back he continued. “I told you, you would want me once I’d shown you.”

“What are you afraid of, Garrus? I may have asked, but you’d yet to answer to my request for exclusivity. Why can’t you meet my eyes? Do you think that I’d hurt you?” He sounded wounded at his own words. The sniper grit his teeth, looking away still. When he didn’t reply, Adrien changed his tune slightly. “If you want me to, if that’s what you need, then I will. Those bruises would have taken a lot of force, if that’s what you need for enjoyment...”

“No!” Garrus snarled, backing away until he hit the wall between the Primarch’s cot and the drivecore window. Pupils blown wide with fear, arms crossing over his waist and shoulders slumped.

Surprise took hold of the Primarch, understanding dawning. Suddenly the sniper’s reactions began to make sense. “It wasn’t consensual, was it?” he asked.

Vakarian relaxed slightly when Victus kept his distance. Finding words eventually. “It was, for a long time. The last time, it wasn’t.”

“Who, Garrus?” Adrien asked, confused. 

The sniper watched his face. He would have been going through the possible suspects, wracking his brain for the answer. One didn’t need to be a detective to figure it out. It would have had to of been someone on the ship, it had happened between the Attican Traverse and Tuchanka. No one but Grunt had joined the crew in that time, and he’d been in the medical bay. He wasn’t fearful of the Commander. He was companionable with the other members of the ground team. In any case, no human crew could have made the marks he bore. Golden eyes fell to the ex-cop’s shoulder, the teeth marks becoming the last piece of evidence needed. “Ah.”

“You see now?” Garrus whispered, his voice empty. When Adrien didn’t reply, he glanced upwards. Catching his eyes, the older male held the younger captive with his gaze.

“Was it love?”

“For a time, yes. Not anymore,” he admitted, solemnly. The truth in the open allowing him to finally speak without halting. “Circumstances forced us apart: the genophage, the war, our species. We weren’t exclusive. Couldn’t be.”

The Primarch’s head tilted in question. “Why would he force himself then?”

“Anger. Jealousy. Power.” He sighed, shaking his head and breaking their staring contest. “Eve had found out apparently. Told him he was weak. He couldn’t let that stand and keep control of his people.”

“You didn’t stop him,” Adrien accused.

Growling, Garrus stepped forwards, hands dropping to his sides with his talons bared. “I had a duty to our people. He threatened to withdraw support, leave Palaven to burn. What was I supposed to do?” he was angry at the implication. “I couldn’t call for help. I fought and lost.”

“He hit you.”

Garrus huffed a bitter laugh. “That’s putting it mildly.” He unconsciously rubbed his cheek under his, ever present, visor. “Came into the battery in the middle of the night, armored and predatory. Threw me into the wall, choked me. Smashed my face into the deck plating. I fought, Adrien. And he threatened our very existence. What was I supposed to do?” he asked again, quieter, the anger draining him.

“We would have found a way to win, without the krogan, Garrus.” He stepped towards the younger turian. Conflict evident in his tone and expression.

“No!” Garrus yelled back. “We wouldn’t have! You know as well as I do our people are dying by the millions. If we hadn’t cured the genophage, gained krogan support, then we’d be dead in space. They are the boost Palaven needs, and damn it, I was not going to be the reason we failed.” His fists clenched in anger, jaw held tight.

Sighing, the Primarch stopped just inside the Advisor’s reach. “It’s over, Garrus.” He held out his arms, beckoning the younger male into them. “Let me take care of you now, please.”

He hesitated, taken aback by the abrupt change. “What?”

“Come here,” Adrien requested. He didn’t move towards him, only gestured with open arms at him to come closer. “You’ve been through enough, let me protect you. Chase the demons away.” He didn’t need to wait long before Garrus slumped forwards, his face onto his shoulder. Hands wrapping around the younger male warmly, holding him careful against his chest. 

After a few quiet moments, the soldier's hands came up to wrap around his superior’s back. A mournful keen struggling to overtake him. Adrien tightened his grip, one hand sliding up to hold the back of his neck protective. The flood gates opened at that, and he held him as he cried. Stress, betrayal, love lost and hurting. It all came out. Turians couldn’t tear up like humans did, but the effect was the same as sobs wracked his body and his sub vocals went haywire. 

“That’s it, let it out.” Adrien encouraged, hushing him. Voice soothing like he hadn’t heard since he was a fledgling. Slowly the sobs began to subside, ragged breath replacing them.

Eventually, the older male led them to the bed. Sitting his partner down on its edge to remove his boots for him. Settling him down on his side, before taking his own tunic off and sliding into the bed, legs tangling together under the warm blankets. Gently pulling his partner’s head into his chest, under his chin. It didn’t take long for exhaustion to take hold of the younger male. He finally relaxed, falling asleep in the elder’s arms. Adrien’s whispered voice the last thing he heard as he drifted off.

“You’re safe here, Garrus.” 

+-+-+-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And... does the characterisation make more sense now? I hope it came across!


	10. Yes, sir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien provides comfort, and Garrus learns what partnership really means.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one gets a little heavy, and a little smutty. Enjoy!

Awareness came slowly. Although, sleep warmed blankets surrounded him, Garrus noted that he was alone. Carefully he sat up, opening his eyes to the dim blue light of the drivecore, the overhead lights were out. His mouth was dry, muscles stiff. Obvious signs that he’d been asleep too long, checking his omnitool confirmed it. It was nearly midday.

Sliding his feet to the floor, the sniper got his bearings. His shoulder and leg ached; his face and, somewhere he’d rather not think about, throbbed. He was going to need to see Karin before getting back to work. Sighing, he stood up. “EDI, lights please,” he said to the empty room, voice rusty with disuse. 

“ _ Good morning,” _ the AI replied, sounding almost cheerful. “ _ I’ve been asked to inform the Primarch when you awakened. Would now be an appropriate time?” _

Garrus took a few limping steps to the table that held his armor. Muscles screaming at him. “That’s fine, EDI. Is he expecting me?”

“ _ The Primarch informed me he left a datapad for you, however, he has no immediate need for your presence _ .” 

Seeing it now beside his greaves he mumbled thanks and acknowledged her logging out. He picked up the pad, skimming through it quickly. Orders to go to the medical bay, which he half smiled at. And a...  _ request? _ to return that evening. The fact it was a request, not an order, was specifically stated:  _ You are welcome to return tonight if you wish to. I would appreciate your company. _

Adrien wasn’t telling him to return, or ordering, or even asking, really. He was giving the younger turian an out if he wanted it. For some, obviously insane reason, Adrien still wanted him. Or at the very least he wanted to tell him face-to-face that they couldn’t be together. That possibility, or more likely probability, hurt, a lot more than he’d expected it to. 

Regardless, the Advisor still had duties to attend to before the entire day was lost. Armoring with his usual easy precision didn’t take long, and shortly he was on his way to see the doctor. The ship was on it’s way back to the Citadel for resupply and for the Commander to report in on their progress thus far. A transit day meant all was quiet, those needed were at their stations, everyone else was resting.

Doctor Chakwas patched him up without asking questions or admonishing him much beyond her usual encouraging tone tell him to learn to duck. He laughed as always and told her that turians didn’t know how. And that was it. He left for the mess hall with a round of antibiotics and a solid dose of painkillers. Feeling a little lighter than before, likely due, in no small part, to the judicious prescription.

It wasn’t surprising to see Shepard doing his rounds, although, considering the time, a little later than usual. He hoped that meant he’d also slept in, Spirits knew he needed it. The turian acknowledged Commander as they passed one another. “Shepard, need me for something?”

“Nothing right now,” he replied too quickly, a matter of habit more than anything. Stopping and thinking better of the speedy reply, he changed his mind. “Might need you for a mission later, EDI and Traynor had picked up a hint of something.”

Nodding, Garrus agreed without question. “Of course. I’ll be here when you need me. Any details yet?”

Sighing the human shrugged his shoulder and held his hands out, palms up. “When do I ever have details, Vakarian?” 

“Fair enough.” The turian moved behind the counter in the kitchen, pulling out a ration bar from his stash in the cupboard. Turning slightly, he looked back at the Commander, “You eat?” he asked. Without waiting for a reply he grabbed a levo bar and tossed it. Shepard caught it easily, muttering a thanks as he tore into it. “I’ll take that as a no, Shepard….”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t you start on that too,” he interrupted, waving him off. “Liara’s bad enough. Don’t need you too.”

Garrus just laughed around a bite of his own. “Ah, yes. The Great Commander Shepard, force fed to death by his closest friends.”

“Shut it.” The human said without anger, nearly laughing himself as he headed for the lift. “I’m not the one who’ll blow over in a stiff wind.”

“Sure, Shepard. Sure.” Garrus said to his back. Definitely feeling lighter. 

+-+-+

It turned out that Vakarian was needed for another mission, so soon after Tuchanka. A human Alliance school for biotic children, Grissom Academy, was under attack. Cerberus. Of course. 

_ ‘Who else would be trying to steal children in the middle of a war?’ _

Along with Liara and Shepard, they’d fought through hordes of mechs and Cerberus troops. Managed to find Jack, of all people, and saved her and the students. He was still amazed at their resilience, and the change in his old teammate, when he helped get them settled into the hold. There wasn’t much room on the Normandy, not for a full class of teenagers and their very grumpy instructor. But they made do. Rations and energy drinks passed around freely. Blankets and spare cots dragged out.

By the time he managed to make it back to the crew deck, it was late.  _ Or was it early? _ Garrus mused in the elevator. When he stepped out his thoughts travelled immediately to the earlier invitation. Adrien had made it abundantly clear that he was wanted, but it was the middle of the night. And despite not being on the ground team, he knew that, as Primarch, his partner would need as much sleep as he could get. It wouldn’t come easily. 

Disturbing him seemed cruel. But he longed for the contact. The young turian was at the door before he knew what he was doing, with one hand poised to knock. Barely managing to stop himself before knocking. Hand falling lamely back to his side, head dipped low and a small sigh escaping him.Turning away, he knew he’d see Adrien in the morning. It was only a few hours away. The  _ Normandy _ was a surprisingly large ship at times; he hadn’t seen the male since falling asleep the night before. 

Garrus’ escape was halted before he’d managed to get three steps away, he heard the door slide open and he stopped. Chin rising up, the sniper looked back over his shoulder to see a sleep lagged Primarch, leaning in the doorway. 

“Garrus,” he greeted, voice rough with the last dregs of slumber. “Did you want to come in?”

It was a simple question, asked with an honesty that still astounded the ex-cop. “I’d like that,” he replied shortly. Not trusting himself to say more. The beckoning hand compelled him inside, once he’d reached the threshold it dropped to his lower back and led him along. 

The lights were low, so dim he could just barely see until his eyes adjusted. The light from his visor giving off just as much as the mellow blue of the drivecore. Without prompting, Garrus went to the table and divested himself of his hardsuit. Victus didn’t help him, but he did stand at his side until he was finished. Bare chested and footed, in what looked like warm sleeping pants. 

When he was done, Adrien’s hand came up to cup his undamaged mandible gently. He smiled, sliding it up slowly to remove the, ever present, visor. Once it was settled down beside the rest of his gear he touched the younger male’s face again. “I’ve gotten so used to seeing you with this on,” he said quietly. “It’s nice to see both your eyes.”

His neck flushed blue, and Garrus was thankful for the low light. Instead of a verbal reply, he hummed and nuzzled into the older male’s hand. It was comforting. He followed willingly when Adrien used that soothing touch to lure him to the bed, settling him down as he’d done the night before. His back to the wall, legs intertwined, Adrien’s hands on his face and the curve of his waist.

Shivering at the light touch, the sniper pressed into his Primarch. His own hands resting on chest and hip. It only took a slight lean forwards to press his crest to the senior’s. The grateful sigh that followed it made him press in firmer, taking the comfort and giving it freely. 

“Want to talk about it?” Adrien said eventually, still fatigued but more clear than earlier. He didn’t allude to what  _ it _ was, letting Garrus decide what he wanted to speak about, if he chose to speak of anything at all.

The half shrug was more felt than seen. “Not tonight. I would like to. Eventually. But not tonight.”

“Mhmm…” the Primarch hummed back sleepily. “When you’re ready. Until then, sleep with me.” He curled himself around the younger male, protective almost. As though he’d disappear if he weren’t held onto. 

It was more comfortable than Garrus had expected it to be; he’d never really been a cuddler. More for lack of partner, than a lack of want. It just wasn’t done with casual hookups. Definitely not done with his krogan partner, he shuddered, only to be calmed by a half asleep Adrien soothing him with calloused fingers against his scarred mandible.

He melted into the soft touch, relaxing further as the covers warmed with their body heat. The SR-2 was a human designed and run ship, thus it ran at human temperatures. The subtle chill had always been hard to fight, but with a partner curled into bed with him, he decided that maybe it wasn’t so bad.

Garrus drifted off not long after the Primarch, comfortable and safe. The realisation that this was their second night together without sex dawning on him in his sleepy haze. Their easy intimacy was more than he’d ever expected. Ever known a relationship could be. He’d never let one get this far.

+-+-+

Morning came too soon, met with the gentle buzz of his omnitool Garrus pushed himself up. Detangling himself from Victus as he did so, rousing the older male. He sat, an arm pressed into the mattress to keep upright as he looked down at his sleeping partner fondly. Somehow, even without malleable features, he looked sleep tousled.

“Good morning,” he smiled, watching Victus’ yawn. Almost laughing as he realised that the elder male, despite being career military, was not a morning person.

Adrien didn’t reply, only grumbled and pulled the younger male back down to press their crests together. “Early,” he managed eventually. “Too early.” Hands were clumsy as they dragged along Garrus’ waist, pulling a groan from him. Mouths met in the middle, tongues easily finding one another for a morning dose of Reverie. Their first since days ago.

The sniper moaned into his partner’s mouth. Contented.

It was easy. Taking and giving. Tasting one another. Touching so intimately even after what had happened just a few days ago. Almost as though Adrien knew how to build him back up. Offering comfort, never forcing the issue or forcing contact. He let Garrus come to him, opened his arms, warm and inviting, and let him stay there. Pushing only as far as needed.

So when the older male’s hand skimmed the edge of his waistband and dipped lower to cup the swell of his ass, he had no idea why he tensed. Just froze, heartbeat racing and a whine slipping from his throat, unbidden. A tremor ran down his bad arm, talons closed into fists and dropped to his sides.

Adrien stopped immediately. Withdrawing his hand and instead touching his face, for once not letting his partner shy away from him. “Garrus…” he said, voice calm and patient. “Look at me, sweetheart.” His sub vocal hum was soothing and concerned. “I’m not going to hurt you. Please, Garrus. It’s alright.”

It took a few startlingly slow minutes, but the ex-cop did eventually calm enough to drag himself out of wherever he’d gone. Eyes refocusing from their brief, glassy haze. Though he didn’t seek comfort in his partner, just curled in on himself. Somehow managing to look smaller than Adrien ever thought the mountainous sniper could be. He’d pulled away entirely, back flat against the wall, far enough that Victus’ hands left him. Instead, Garrus’ own hands covered his face, talons digging into his fringe.

“Garrus,” the Primarch tried again, trying to force the pain out of his own voice. Keep it trapped far down in his gullet. His partner needed strength right now, and he wanted to give it. “Talk to me. I want to help you.” Vakarian shook his head minutely. Had he not been centimeters away he’d of missed it. “Let me in, love. I’m right here.”

“Why?” 

Adrien tilted his head in confusion, not understanding the question. “Why, what?”

It took another full minute before he spoke again. Garrus’ voice was forlorn. Tone bleak. “Why do you want me?” he managed to force out in a stammered sentence. “I’m broken.”

“No. No, Garrus you’re not.”

He laughed, bitter and angry. Hands sliding to the sides of his head so he could see the Primarch between them. “In every sense of the word. Failed cop and son. Failed vigilante and leader. Failed…” he swallowed his shame and finished, “Partner.”

Sitting up, Victus turned his back on the younger male. His bare taloned feet clicking against the metal floor. “That isn’t how I see you,” he began only to be cut off by rage. 

“That’s what I am! Mutilated and… and used. Why in the Spirits’ names, out of anyone in this entire damn galaxy, do you want me?” He’d pulled himself up now, huddling into the corner where he could pull his knees into his chest. Anger faded, sorrow and maybe a bit of guilt settling in. His words were almost a whisper when he chose to speak again. “You could have anyone. Why would you choose to be with a broken turian like me?”

Adrien shook his head, sighing. “Is that what this is about? You don’t think you’re good enough for me? Your scars, physical and otherwise, make you unloveable?”

Garrus didn’t answer.

So the Primarch turned around to see him, really see him this time. Take in the inward curve of his spine, the downcast gaze, the rigidness that he held himself up with, just starting to fail. His throat was tight when he finally spoke. Words carefully chosen. 

“You left C-Sec to do what you believed was right, and took down a rogue Spectre. You left Spectre training when the Council dismissed Shepard as crazy after his death, denouncing him and brushing the Reapers away as stories meant to scare children, only to come back from an impossible mission twice over. I know who you are, Garrus. I also know that you came to Palaven to watch your mother pass, and it only bolstered your resolve. You brought our people together, even when no one wanted to listen. I know exactly who you are. Do not think that I wouldn’t have done my research.” His words were sharp, but his tone portrayed him as the picture of calm.

When Garrus said nothing, he continued. “Even if I hadn’t? I have known you for months. Listened to you speak with poise and confidence to past Primarchs and Generals. Fought and trained alongside you. Watched you make others laugh, brighten days. Help people. Seen you at your best, and even now at your worst. I want to be with you, Garrus. It is not out of some misplaced sort of guilt or perversion. Why won’t you let me?”

Silence stretched between them for a few minutes. The gentle hum of the drivecore as their backdrop. The room mostly soundproofed from the rest of the ship through it’s thick bulkhead doors. Stunned silence, was the best way to describe the slack mandibled gaze of the younger male. 

Finally, after what seemed like forever, but could have been just seconds, the sniper nodded once. Understanding dawning. “Adrien,” he began, voice rough with an unuttered keen. “Are you certain?”

“I wouldn’t have invited you here if I wasn’t,” he replied after letting out a cool breath. Shoulders only just starting to relax, he hadn’t realised the built up tension in them through his speech. “However, I do not want to coerce you. You know my feelings, I’ve laid them out clearly. But if you cannot bond with me, I won’t keep you from what, or who, you desire.”

Garrus moved so fast that he didn’t think Adrien realises he’d budged until arms were wrapped around him, his back against the sniper’s chest. Shaking his head vigorously, the younger man held onto him. “There is no one else.”

“Good,” Adrien replied, hands pulling Garrus’ arms into his chest. Comforted by the proximity of him, his warmth pressed tight against his back. “I am old, Garrus. I’ve bonded before, and lost. I understand your hesitation.”

Again he shook his head, pressing firmer into the elder turian. “No. That isn’t it. I’m… nervous I suppose. I trusted…” he hesitated over the name, “Wrex. I trusted someone before him as well, Lantar.” His voice wavered but he kept on. “Trusting is difficult. I want to. Trust you. You’ve shown me that I can. It’s... “

“Hush, love.” Adrien turned his head to the side and pulled him into another kiss. Reverie heavy, smoothing the rough edges of their conversation. Once he had the sniper purring contently he let off, allowing him to pull back. “Better?” he asked.

He half laughed, more breathy than anything. “I think so, yeah.”

“Good,” Adrien said as he pulled away and stood. “I’d like to hear your story one day. When you’re ready.” He turned just in time to see the tiny nod of agreement. His darker gaze locking onto blue eyes. 

He gently pressed the younger male back down against the sheets. An open mouthed kiss followed, easy and smooth. Exploring each other again, the Primarch allowing his advisor to be the aggressor in the exchange even though he was on top, straddling him. 

Garrus’ hands were the first to wrap around the other’s solid form, pulling a groan as he worked one hand into the swell of his hip and the other into the sensitive hide under his fringe. Only when the sniper’s hips ground up into his own, did Adrien begin to touch him. Even then, only above the belt. Drawing lines over his bare shoulders, talons digging slightly into the unplated hide of his waist. 

It didn’t take long before Vakarian became more adventurous, working his way down the elder’s body with strong hands until he came to his seam. Gentle fingers brushed him carefully at first, at the moan he pressed on, sliding against the sensitive sheath as it opened for him. When Adrien was finally in his hand, hard and full with blood, he gave a few slow strokes. Sliding easily with the Primarch’s fluids coating his hand. 

“Keep that up,” Adrien began speaking into the younger’s mouth, “and I won’t last long.” Groaning he bucked into the younger male’s grip. “I want you, Garrus.”

The sniper’s grip faltered, slowing but not stopping its movement. “I… I don’t think I can take you… not yet.” He looked away, only to be brought back by the soothing tone of his partner and a request he hadn’t expected.

“I want you inside me, Garrus.”

His eyes snapped back to Adrien’s golden ones, his hand stopping. “What?” 

Victus only chuckled at the flabbergasted look on the ex-cop’s face. Dropping his voice an octave, he more growled than said, “I want you to take me.” To emphasise his point he ground his hips down once more, his ass to the pinned turian’s seam. “I want to feel you.”

“Yeah?” Garrus asked, a little awe struck. “I thought…”

Victus cut him off with a warm chuckle. “I want you to be my partner, Garrus. My preference is to have control, I told you that. I didn’t say that I wouldn’t receive, you offered. Believe me when I say the position doesn’t matter, you will still call me sir.” Pulling back a moment he divested himself of his pants before straddling him again. He took hold of the younger male’s chin, kissing him slowly, deliberately. Eyes open and daring the sniper to look away.

In that moment, Garrus saw his unique golden gaze for what it was. The lighting in a thunderstorm. His own glacial colour swallowed up by it. Ice melting at the force of the storm.

When Garrus finally pulled back he was dizzy with Reverie, and sure that his partner was too. 

“Am I clear?”

Garrus shivered. “Yes, Sir.”

One of the sniper’s hands slid around to his partner’s entrance. Carefully tracing a talon around it before pressing slowly inside of him. The breathy gasp was enough to spur him on, emerging from his own plates and straining against his pants. He worked the single finger in and out of him for a few minutes until he felt him loosen enough for a second. Playing at the entrance for a few minutes he enjoyed the half thrusts Victus made on top of him, eyes closed as he focusing on relaxing. Breaths growing heavy at the unfamiliar stretch. 

“Garrus…” he groaned. “Enough.” 

“Sir?” the young Vakarian inquired, a smirk on his mandibles as he withdrew his hand and gave a few, barely there, pumps to the neglected length in between them. Bringing him to full hardness, dripping precum. 

Adrien bucked into his hand. “Are you ready?” he moaned more than said, still checking for approval even when it was obviously consensual.

“Definitely,” Garrus replied too quick. At Adrien’s raised brow ridge he added, “Sir.” Then he couldn’t stop his sigh as he pulled his own pants down and his hardness was freed. He gave his the newly released length a few strokes to bring him to full attention before pressing against the Primarch’s entrance. 

Taking control, Victus batted his hands out of the way with a wry smile. Taking them both in his right he pressed them down on the mattress above his head. With the other he guided the younger male’s length into him. Dropped his weight down until penetration began, splitting him with a groan that was matched by Garrus’ own. 

It took a few tries to fully seat himself in Garrus’ lap. Back arched and breaths halting. Fortunate and unfortunate at the same time, the sniper was proportional. Adrien was only slightly taller than him, though he was without the bulk from years of wearing heavy armor. He prefered medium gear, and as a General he spent just as much time in dress uniform as he had armor. Garrus was taller than the average turian, with a much heavier build, his member portrayed it quite accurately. Long and thick. While his own was slightly longer, it wasn’t nearly so wide.

“Are you alright, Primarch?” Garrus asked carefully. Adrien opened his eyes to stare down into his partner’s. They were glazed with lust, mandibles twitching in barely contained want.

Breaths coming in pants, he managed a reply. “Better than that.” He gave an experimental rock to his hips, enjoying both the feeling of his partner inside him, but also the look of ecstasy on his face. “Much better.” He moaned and began to move. Relishing the immediate response of the younger male under him, his back bowing us much as turian physiology would allow.

“Oh, fuck… Adrien… oh damn.” He rocked his hips with the Primarch’s movements, the elder too far gone now to reprimand him for the use of his given name. His hands writhed against the hold. It wasn’t enough to keep him down, should he want to break free, but he dutifully kept them above his head. Letting him keep control. “Oh… mhmn… you feel so gooooood…” he dragged out the last word, hips rising to meet the other’s. Hilting himself fully inside the older male.

“Haa…. Ga… Garrus… nhg...” he was losing control. Unable to stop himself from crying out in pleasure. Lost in the motions. When he started to falter as he got closer to his end he let go of the younger male’s hands. Which immediately flew to his hips, helping him along, grinding him down with each stroke. “I’m… oh… close. Garrus. Please.”

The sniper was more than happy to oblige him. He pulled his legs in, planting his feet so that he could use hip drive with each thrust. Plowing into his Primarch. His mate. Adrien fell forwards with the force of one, particularly hard, thrust. Their mouths crashed together, chasing the high Reverie would bring. The new angle thrust Garrus into the right place, deep inside his partner, with each thrust. 

It didn’t take long past that before he was calling his partner’s name, in a relentless litany, as he came messily between them. Biting down on the younger male’s shoulder, digging his teeth into plate and hide to stop the entire ship from hearing him. 

A few sloppy thrusts had Garrus joining him. Back arched and talons breaking into skin on his partner’s hips. Holding him steady until he’d emptied himself fully. He relaxed into the blankets in a boneless heap, Adrien collapsing onto his chest. Both breathing hard. Gasping for air. 

Minutes passed before either of them moved, and only then because Garrus had soften enough to allow him to exit his partner. A soft whine escaping him as he was released with one final squeeze of the Primarch’s internal muscles. Reaching out, he pulled the elder down into his chest. Needing the contact, the Primarch allowed it for a moment before he slide to the side, curling around his form. 

“Adrien…” Garrus breathed. “That was…” he didn’t know how to put the experience into words, he shivered despite the warmth still flowing off of him. Humming in agreement, Adrien nodded against his chest. And then the words slipped out, unbidden from the Advisor’s throat. “I love you.”

The Primarch went still a moment. And Garrus began to try and take the words back, only to be stopped by another dose of Reverie as Adrien’s mouth crashed into his own. Drawing a full bodied groan of pleasure. When they parted, absolutely gasping for air, Adrien was the first to find words. “I love you too, Garrus.”

The younger male keened and he comforted him, pressing his crest to the younger’s. Stormy-gold eyes open, staring straight into the ice-blue of his lover’s. “Bond with me,” he said calmly. Not a question, not an order. An honest statement of his feelings.

“Yes, sir.”

+-+-+-+-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See! I can be nice to Garrus.
> 
> I was thinking I should split this story into parts of a whole. Thoughts?


	11. Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrus learns the truth. Unfortunately, Wrex did too. Somewhere along the line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canonical character death in this one folks, with a twist to make it flow. Bromance followed by a really sad part.

Three weeks passed, beginning with a Cerberus coupe on the Citadel and culminating in the end of a three centuries old war between the quarians and the geth. The human Councillor, Udina, was killed and the salarian, Valern, was saved. A second Reaper was taken down on foot, and Tali joined the crew of the  _ Normandy  _ once again. It was an eventful month to say the least. 

It also meant that the crew had earned a little shore leave, and Commander Shepard was intending to make sure that, that happened. They were headed back to the Citadel, and would be there by morning if everything went as it was supposed to. Which was why, he and Garrus were sitting in the lounge, relaxing.

“I know, calibrations.” Shepard had said when he’d come to the main battery to pull Garrus away from his work. “But right now, your Commander has an order for you. Join me for a drink.”

The turian had laughed. “Sure, Shepard. Whatever you say.” And closed out his programs. “You do know your girlfriend is on board this ship, right?”

“And she’s being all... Shadow Broker-y again,” he lamented once they reached the lounge, gesturing vaguely with his hands. “You know that little AI of hers weirds me out.”

Shaking his head, Garrus made his way to the bar and grabbed two bottles out from behind it. Blue for himself and amber for Shepard, holding it up for approval. When the Commander nodded, he grabbed two glasses and headed for the couch, sitting on the opposing end. They drank their first glass in silence, staring out at the stars. “Something on your mind, Shepard?”

He hummed, taking another sip before answering. “Been a lot on my mind, Garrus. Where should I start?”

“Depends on how many drinks we’re having tonight, I suppose?”

Laughing, the human shook his head and finished his second drink in a single go, pouring another. “We’ve got all night, so I suppose we’ll just have to restock when we get the the Citadel.” He eyed the turian, who, with a sigh, finished his second drink in one fell swoop before passing the empty glass over for him to fill. “Been a hell of a ride, Vakarian.”

“Understatement of the century,” he released a slow breath and leaned back, with an arm over the back of the couch. “Ever think we’d end up here? You know, back when this all started?”

“Not for a second. I’m glad I’ve got you at my back, you know that right?”

“What?” he asked with a mirth laden grin. Voice all confidence and swagger. “Walking into hell with you twice wasn’t enough for you to believe I’d be here for round three? What’s that thing you humans say… third time's the charm?”

Another sip and another laugh. “You’re finally starting to get the hang of it.” Garrus shook his head, muttering  _ hang of it _ . “Humans and their idioms. I know. I just wanted to... you know, thank you. It means a lot that you stayed. I know it took a lot for you not to go with Adrien.”

Garrus grew still, mouth a hard line for a moment before he finished his glass again. The buzz of alcohol hitting him faster than it did the Commander. “Wasn’t that hard a choice, really. He needed me here as much as he needed me at his side. His war liaison had to be someone he trusted.”

“Still, it means a lot. So... thanks.”

“I’ll always be on your six, Shepard.” He said with more seriousness than intended, glancing sideways to look at him out the corner of his eye. “You know that right?”

He nodded. “Yeah. You’re my best friend, G.”

“Mhm…” Garrus hummed and dropped his head back to look at the ceiling. “You getting soft on me, Shepard? Cause if you are? There’s probably some kind of joke in there about that being my job.”

That made him laugh, and shove Garrus’ shoulder before sitting back as well. An ankle over his knee, swirling the alcohol in his glass. “Speaking of the Primarch… you uh… and Adrien?”

“Uh… yeah.” Garrus rubbed the fresh scar on his neck seemly without realising it, only the edge of it visible above his collar. “You and Liara going to get hitched, too?”

Shepard tilted his head in confusion, feet moving to the floor as he turned to look over at his friend, dramatically overstated. “Wait, wait, wait. What? When the hell did you get married?”

“Bonded, Shepard. The turian word is bonded.” 

Shaking his head and finishing another sip of his drink. “You mean to tell me that turians don’t do anything public? Like… just a bite and you’re done? What the hell?”

The sniper laughed for a moment, full bodied and happy. Cultural bashing aside, it was a little funny that the human was upset at not being included. Once he gotten himself back under control he explained. “Well, normally there’s a ceremony afterwards, or before depending on your preference.”

“Who shows up to those things?” Shepard asked, honest curiosity on his features.

“Family, friends. If it’s someone of a higher tier there’s usually a few token delegates chosen from close acquaintances,” he explained cooly. “Someone close to the couple will say some nice words, about honor, duty and the greater good, you know all that standard turian stuff.”

Huffing a laugh, Shepard probed again. “You’re holding out on me Vakarian, why not have a party? Mum always used to tell me you should use any excuse you’ve got to celebrate. Life’s short.”

“Hm… With the war…” he ground his teeth together, becoming more serious. “I haven’t heard from my family yet. I… I don’t know if they’re even alive. Let alone where they are. And Adrien doesn’t have any immediate family left. Plus he’s bonded before. Would make sense that he doesn’t want to make a big deal of it on his second. They’re fairly rare. And with his position,” he trailed off without finishing the thought.

“Well… do turians have bachelor parties?” Shepard asked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Uh, no. We don’t-”

The human slid down the couch a little, butting his shoulder up against the turian’s. “Want one? I mean, no strippers because for one, Liara would kill me. And two, I feel like we’d like different kinds of stripper.” 

Laughing again, Garrus shook his head. “And who pray tell, would come to this party?”

“Just us if you want. There’s gotta be something you’ve always wanted to do? Spectre Authority?” He raised his eyebrows, waggling them in a distincty human way. “Come on Garrus… some kind of C-Sec rule you’ve always wanted to break.”

“Well, since you’re offering?” he got a wicked smile on his face, voice dropping into that low dangerous register that tended to set off all the women in the vicinity. “There’s always been one thing I wanted to try.”

+-+-+

That was how Shepard and Garrus ended up on a support beam, overlooking the Presidium. Sniper rifles in hand, drinks in the cooler. Shooting at bottles thrown at first with just a strong arm, and later biotically. Shattering with practice rounds straight through the sides, glass falling into the lake far below them to be cleaned out by the filters.   

“So how many regs are we breaking?” Shepard had asked with a chuckle when the turian had pulled the gun case out of the skycar’s trunk. 

“Forty-two. Or maybe forty-nine. Depends on how much of a dick the arresting officer wants to be.” He’d answered with a half shrug and a wry grin.

They’d gone on to have a shooting contest. The turian not allowed to wear his visor, levelling the playing field. Both had managed a fair number of shots, the Commander only losing when they’d started competing for the same bottle. Vakarian was slightly faster on the draw from years of using his sniper versus the assault rifle that the human preferred.

“Pull!” Shepard threw another empty bottle at the command, Garrus waited until it was a good hundred yards out before hitting it. “That’s how it’s done!” he whooped. 

“King of the Bottle Shooters,” Shepard shook his head and grabbed another drink. “That’s what I’m calling you from now on.” He sat down, back against the vehicle, legs kicked out in front of himself.

The sniper took a few paces back, settling his rifle down into the case alongside the one he’d brought for Shepard. Grabbing his own beer and sitting down on top of the cooler. “You’re just jealous that it isn’t your nickname.”

“Sure, your highness,” the Commander taunted. “That’s obviously it.” 

It was easy to forget the war for a few hours up there. Looking out at the curve of the Presidium, even with the damage Cerberus had done. The artificial sky was still clear and blue, the breeze light and warm. It was almost peaceful. Just the white noise from the traffic well below them.

“Any word from your family,” Shepard asked eventually, breaking the long silence. He already knew the answer, Liara had told him earlier at lunch, but Garrus didn’t need to know that. 

Nodding the sniper hummed an affirmative. “It was tight, but they made it off Palaven okay.”

“We’ll take every scrap of good news we can get,” he agreed. Happy to see the relief settle into his friend's shoulders. Though it didn’t last long.  

“Wish I had more though,” he led in, preparing the Commander for the news. “Before heading here, I managed to speak with Adrien. Had to make a tough call. He said our fleets are being decimated. So my advice was to cease all offensive operations against the Reapers.”

“A full retreat?” the biotic asked, a little shocked.

“The only way to save Palaven now is to hold our ships back for the Crucible,” he explained calmly, though his voice was tight with anxiety. “But if I’m wrong? Then a lot of other turian families won’t be as lucky as mine.”

Shepard let the words sit for a minute. Deciding how to reply. “If it means anything? I would have given the Primarch the same advice.”

“Yeah,” the ex-cop released the breath he hadn’t known he was holding. “There’s that ruthless calculus everyone’s talking about.” He stood up, long enough to grab another bottle, offering one to the Commander which he refused, with a slight shake of his head. “Speaking of which, I hear the salarians are helping us out. How did you manage that?”

Shepard’s jaw snapped shut and he looked away. Vakarian waited patiently, a sniper’s patience, until he broke. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“I know it’s been eating at you, whatever it is. You can tell me, Shepard.”

He sighed, long and deep. Finding the courage to say it aloud was more difficult than he’d imagined. “I… I made sure the genophage cure wouldn’t work. It was the price for salarian cooperation.”

Garrus stiffened at the admission. Leaving it between them for a few minutes until he was able to form words. With a sigh of his own he nodded once, sharply. “A few years ago I would have said you paid too much. But, now? If there was a deal that could save Palaven? I wouldn’t be so certain. If Wrex hadn’t...” he coughed and looked away. No really wanting to discuss what had happened beyond the vague idea Shepard already had. Instead he changed the subject. “Did Mordin just go along with it?”

The Commander let his comment drop. “Well. It took some persuading. But he saw reason, he’s working on the Crucible project.”

“That devious little salarian,” Vakarian half laughed. “I’ll be damned. He’s alive?”

Shepard nodded. “Can you blame me?”

“For keeping Mordin alive? No. not at all. I can thank you for it. For not curing the genophage?” he paused. Thinking over the words carefully before replying. “I’m not sure if blame is the right word, like I said before, ruthless calculus.”

“Fuck,” the human dropped the expletive, staring up at the artificial sky. “You said it.”

“Wreav is too stupid to figure it out. But Wr…” hesitating over the name the sniper paused a moment, ensuring his voice would be sure. “Wrex might. Be careful if you’re around him again, Shepard.” He looked away, feeling a bit self conscious about voicing his concern. “He can’t be trusted.”

The Commanded nodded once. Voice sharp. “It wasn’t revenge. It was for the greater good, whatever that means. We couldn’t trust Wrex to keep control of the krogan, not without Eve at his side,” he took his time, breathing out slowly before finishing. “Not after what he did.”

“Of course you can’t actually tell him that,” Garrus replied, dragging his gaze back to the Commander. “He doesn’t know you played both sides. Remind me never to play poker with you.”

He almost laughed. “You got it.”

+-+-+-

They packed up not long after Shepard’s admission. Garrus still had rounds to do of the refugee camp, and the Commander was planning on checking in on their resupply before meeting with the asari councillor later that evening. The turian input their destination into the skycar and before long they were back at the docks. 

“You go on ahead, Shepard,” the sniper told his friend once they’d arrived, a companionable arm over his shoulder. In a hushed tone he finished. “I’ll deal with the uh… evidence.” 

Laughing at his term for empty alcohol bottles and the rifles they’d stowed away he agreed. Heading through the security checkpoint, leaving him alone. The Commander hadn’t gotten halfway through the docking bay before he saw the person he’d least expected. Urdnot Wrex was waiting for him. 

“Wrex,” he greeted smoothly. Eyes dropping to the shotgun at the krogan’s hip.

Growling back, the krogan glared at him. “Shepard.”

It was only then that a C-Sec officer noticed the weapon. “Visitors are prohibited from bringing weapons into the…” he was cut off by the red armored krogan, throwing him to the side with an easy swipe of his arm.

“What are you doing?” Shepard demanded, not moving until Wrex started coming at him, even then he only backed up as much as the krogan forced him to. 

“I know what you did,” he accused. All but roared at his ex-Commander. He brought up his omnitool, playing a recording: 

The cool salarian voice was staticy, but obviously it was a genuine recording.  _ “We can provide you with our very best scientists to build the Crucible… and the full support of our fleets.” _

_ “If I sabotage the cure,”  _ his own voice replied.

_ “Think about it, Commander. The choice is yours.” _ The recording cut off and Wrex took a step forwards.

“Where did you get that?” he asked, trying to stall for time more than anything. Give C-Sec enough time to respond. Or maybe Garrus enough time to get through the scanner.

Wrex took the bait. “Mordin wasn’t my only contact in STG. Or did you think I was as dumb as my brother, Wreav?”  He explained and then spat at him as he pulled the shotgun off of his hip, aiming the muzzle right at the Commander. “What have you done?”

Shepard could hear the C-Sec alarm blaring over the loudspeaker. “ _ Security personnel respond immediately, code red _ .” He needed more time. 

Deciding quickly, he went with honesty. He owed the krogan that, even if he was trying to kill him now. “Wrex, I’m sorry. I sabotaged the cure, but earth is dying - I needed salarian help.”

“And my people?” he roared back. “We’re just collateral damage to you?” Raising his weapon up further, he shoved it forwards menacingly. 

“I didn’t actually kill any krogan,” he defended. “Everyone’s still alive! We can still cure the genophage, but after the war!”

Wrex laughed. “Everyone except my unborn son, you mean! Eve was pregnant when she died. Died because of you!”

Shepard mostly dodged the first shot, diving to the side before taking off down the hallway. Back towards Security as he pulled out his pistol. It wasn’t going to be enough against a fully armored, enraged krogan. But, he hoped it would be enough to buy him some time. He clasped the hand holding his gun down on his bicep where the shot had grazed him. Gritting his teeth partly in pain, but also in anger at himself for not wearing armor of his own. Understanding now why Garrus rarely took his off.

Wrex was still yelling at him. “And before you die, I want you to know I’m calling off our support for Earth! If my people go extinct, so do yours!”

The human managed to get behind a piece of cover. Calling out from where he’d hunkered down. “It doesn’t have to be this way, Wrex!”

It only seemed to make the krogan worse. “It should’ve been this way back on Virmire! But I made the mistake of trusting you - believing you were my friend. I was a fool!”

Another two shots rang out, this time from the opposing end of the docking bay. Sizzling and dying shields were first, then Wrex cried out as the second round obviously hit home. People were running, C-Sec was working on getting everyone evacuated. And when Shepard looked up to where the shot had come from, he wasn’t entirely surprised to see Garrus.The look of fury on his face was enough to send anyone remaining screaming. 

This wasn’t Garrus. No. It was Archangel. 

“You talk about trust?” he yelled, voice echoing. Another shot, this time from Wrex’s shotgun, sounded, but it bounced off the turian’s shields. “What about my trust in you? My belief in you?”

He scoffed. “I say every turian and every human can burn in hell - and you’ll be there to greet them!” the battlemaster yelled back as he charged. Vakarian was too quick for him, two more rounds flew down the barrel of his sniper rifle before he threw it to the side, the rounds causing the krogan to scream in pain but not let up. Each one had gone straight through his right shoulder, leaving the arm bloody and useless at his side. Wrex didn’t drop the gun quite yet, but he did drop his left shoulder into the charge instead.

They collided in the middle of the platform, Garrus dodging low at the last second to take out the charging krogan’s leg. His omnitool flashing bright orange in the moments before impact. Wrex’s screech of pain overwhelmingly loud as orange blood flew out from joint at his knee, the tendon slashed. Crashing him down to the ground. 

Rolling into the clear, the turian stood and pulled his pistol. Chest heaving. “It’s over Wrex. Drop the weapon.”

“You?” Wrex spat with a growl. “I should have known the Commander’s pet would be here. You knew didn’t you! You knew! And you did nothing!”

“No. I didn’t.” Archangel’s cold tone cut him off, his weapon not faltering in its aim. “But if I had? I’ve done the same spirits damned thing. You know why?”

Glaring up at him Wrex answered. “Because of what I did? You’re weaker than…”

“Shut up!” he yelled back. “That has nothing to do with this. What does is the fact you treated millions of lives as bargaining chips for your cure. Millions of needless deaths all because you didn’t trust us to bring a cure without it. Then you have the audacity to bring up what you did to me? Thinking that I’d betray you after everything we’ve been through? I trusted you Wrex, just like I trusted before you,” he shook his head gaze fierce when he zoned back in on the krogan. “You did this, not me.”

“Garrus….”

“No, you don’t get to use that name. You don’t get to talk as though you know me, or understand me.” His weapon didn’t falter, still aimed directly at his abuser, voice hard. “You have one chance, walk away. Lead your clans to end this war. And when it’s over? I’ll do everything I can to make sure you get that cure you want so badly. The cure you’d rather betray your friends for than work towards together.”

The krogan’s sharp laugh echoed. “Someone’s got a quad.” He stood up, favoring the injured leg. “But a quad isn’t going to be enough. First I’ll kill you, then your beloved Commander. And you know what I’ll do after that?” he took one faltering pace forwards. “I’ll do what I did to you to your precious Primarch. How’s that sound? Huh whelp?”

“Wrong answer.” The sniper replied, waiting until the krogan began charging before he emptied the clip of his pistol into him. The first three shots took out his shooting hand, the shotgun clattering to the ground. The next few went right into his unarmored neck. Then they collided.

The turian was thrown back, tumbling to the ground, he brought the krogan down with him. Hands on bloody shoulders, his knee coming between them to keep the larger male’s momentum going and throw him over his head. The edge was too close.

Wrex screamed as he fell to his death.

Carefully, the turian made his way to his feet. Shepard coming to stand beside him, looking over the edge to the lower level, three stories down, where Wrex lay dead or dying. Shepard holstered his pistol, while the ex-cop picked his up off the ground and did the same. 

The human C-Sec Commander, Bailey, finally decided to make an appearance. Having finished with crowd control. The dropped sniper rifle in hand. When he reached the other males, he handed over the weapon. “What the hell pissed him off?” he asked incredulously. 

Shepard closed his eyes, shaking his head with a sigh. “I hoped it wouldn’t come to this. We didn’t see eye to eye.”

“No kidding.”

Garrus holstered the rifle before looking at the officer. “He was a friend once.”

The human shrugged. “I don’t know… any angry krogan coming at you like that? He didn’t leave you two much of a choice.”

Silence prevailed for a moment. Shepard finally breathing out slowly and saying. “No I guess not.”

“Well… In that case? I’m sorry it ended this way, Shepard.” He looked between the turian and human in front of him. The conversation obviously over. Instead of prying he looked out at the other C-Sec officers present. “Alright people, let’s get to it! And let the morgue know we’ve got another deliver coming. Probably too big for a coffin - might have to space this one.” He walked off, muttering into his communicator about getting security to surround the body, just in case the three story drop didn’t quite do its job.

Left alone, the crewmates were quiet for a few minutes. It was the turian who eventually broke the silence. “You need to get that arm taken care of Shepard, Huerta or the Normandy?”

“Garrus…”

“Stop.” He cut him off. “Not right now. He didn’t give me a choice. This wasn’t like Saelon or Lantar.”

“I wasn’t going to tell you that it was. Wrex wasn’t going to stop. You gave him that choice, but you couldn’t control how…”

“STOP IT!” He shouted without looking at the Commander, breaths still heaving, shoulders moving with each breath. “I know that I did. And now I have to live with the fact that I killed him. My hands did this,” he looked down at them, shaking as they were, he clenched them into fists and dropped them to his sides. “No matter what he did. I ended it.”

Without waiting for a reply he headed towards the Normandy. And Shepard let him go.

+-+-+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :'(


	12. Citadel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard and Vakarian make up over a little shore leave. And the Commander comes up with a plan to help him out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be one chapter, but it was taking too long and getting too large! So here's an update for you. Citadel DLC!! Woo!

In the coming weeks, events continued their downhill stumble. Shepard spent a week AWOL helping Aria recover Omega from Cerberus, gaining her support, whilst making his relationship with Garrus tenuous at best. Between Wrex’s death and that, things were bad enough. But it didn’t stop there.

Thessia was lost to the Reapers. Liara and Javik had barely been able to save Shepard from a fall that would have surely killed him, and they hadn’t been able to stop Kai Leng from stealing the final piece of the Crucible. The trio came back to the Normandy broken hearted, their spirits dimmed. 

Despite their issues, Shepard and Garrus, with Tali in tow, had fought through additional Cerberus troops on Horizon, helping Miranda save her sister and kill her father. The older Lawson sister managing to get a tracker onto Leng, giving them the opportunity to follow the bastard straight to the Illusive Man’s base. A chance to finish what they’d begun, ending the terrorist organization and then the Reapers once and for all.

All told, the end of the war was looming over their heads. The grande finale about to begin, as it were. The  _ Normandy  _ had one final supply run to complete before taking the fight to Cerberus. And so they were docking on the Citadel again. In just under a week’s time they’d be departing, hopefully not for the last time. 

It was Liara’s idea, if Shepard was being honest, to have one final party. A chance to remember what they were fighting for and say goodbye, should the worst happen and they didn’t make it home. The entire ground team, past and present, were invited to join he and Liara at the Commander’s Citadel apartment the night before they were set to ship out. The one Anderson had gifted him partway into the war. His pilots were included too, as were EDI and Traynor. 

Despite the potential for unpleasantness, it was decided that Grunt would be invited as well. He had recently been released from the hospital and told of the fake cure. And surprisingly, he’d easily forgiven Shepard for the debacle with Wrex.  _ If my fath… Battlemaster says we are not ready? Then we are not. I will fight for the day we are. _ Although, he hadn’t forgiven Garrus for taking the killshot, but promised to obey his Commander’s orders, agreeing to leave the turian be.

Despite working together on Horizon, Garrus still wasn’t speaking with Shepard, or anyone for that matter, outside of missions and war talk. When he needed something, he’d send a message, avoiding all personal contact whenever possible. Sequestering himself in the War Room mainly, or in the battery when required for weapon maintenance. 

He wasn’t sleeping much from what Shepard noticed. And if the Commander were being truthful? He didn’t actually know where he was sleeping. The turian was avoiding the battery like the plague. The human could only guess at why, but he figured it had something to do with Wrex. It started after Tuchanka, getting worse after his death. 

+-+-+-

Garrus was working with the turian refugees at the Citadel docks when the call came in. Shepard had been attacked on shore leave. As always, he was armored, which made him the quickest to mobilize.

“EDI, status update!” the turian yelled into his com unit as began hauling ass through security to the rapid transit hub.

_ “The Commander was out with Flight Lieutenant Moreau when they were attacked at Ruuysei’s Sushi Bar on the Silversun Strip. They have been separated. Apparently, the Commander fell through a fishtank.” _

Garrus half laughed, _ only Shepard could turn a night out into an all out brawl _ . Shaking his head as he kept running, dodging civilians. “Seriously?” At her affirmative, he found his command stance and barked his orders. “Alright, alert the rest of the crew. I want everyone inbound towards the area, fully geared. You get to Moreau. I’ll find Shepard.” 

“ _ Understood. I would recommend caution, C-Sec has the whole area locked down.” _

From his commandeered skycar Vakarian managed to get in contact with Executor Chellick, his old partner, turned leader of C-Sec. Using Shepard’s Spectre status he gained access to the quarantined zone as far as the skycar could take him. When he disembarked, he was just outside the entrance to the ward. He’d have to hoof it the rest of the way.

Liara’s voice came over his communication channel. “Garrus,  _ I’ve got a com link established. Try raising Shepard. I’m too far away.” _

Nodding, even though she couldn’t see him, he tried the channel. “Shepard? Can you hear me? Are you alright?”

A tense minute passed before the Commander’s voice came back, relief coming through.  _ “I’m fine. Might need a little backup.” _ His tone was light, but the request telling.

“Lucky for you, Archangel is your best friend...” he breathed a sigh of relief. “EDI filled me in, what happened? I’m on foot, be there as fast as I can.”

A female voice came over the com line next, one he didn’t recognize. From the flat, singular tone he could tell it was a human. “ _ Excuse me, who is this? You’re on an unsecured channel, and you’re putting Commander Shepard in danger!” _

Garrus scoffed. “I’m doing what? Who is this?”  _ Who the fuck did this person think she was? _

“Hang on,” Shepard cut him off. “Joker mentioned Staff Analyst Brooks, yes? That’s her. Everybody play nice.” 

Without missing a beat, Garrus switched his channel back over to EDI. Confirming what the Commander said before going back onto the primary channel. Saving his breath for running, he kept quiet for now. This Brooks person seemed all too convenient. 

He was nearly to the Skycar lot that EDI directed him to when Liara came onto the frequency. “Liara here, I just heard. All of us are on our way.”

_ “Good to hear, _ ” Shepard ground out between what were obvious high impact rounds hitting his cover. “ _ Things are a little dicey.” _

_ “Of course they are, _ ” she replied. The joking words, however, didn’t mask her concern.  _ “Just hold on a little longer.” _

_ “Liara…” _ he began, but was cut off by the human woman reminding him yet again that this was an unsecured channel. Garrus couldn’t help his growl, EDI would have secured it immediately, and if not the AI then Liara would have done it herself. She was the Spirits damned Shadow Broker, if the asari couldn’t secure a channel? She wouldn’t have lasted a week in the position. Shepard broke the silence again after a few minutes. _ “Brooks! Found a way across. It’s locked down.” _

_ “Right, because of the, uh, lockdown. Can you get through?”  _ That was odd… Chellick hadn’t mentioned C-Sec locking down local businesses, just the evacuation and ward entry lockout. He’d have to check in on that.

_ “I’ll try to override it.” _ Shepard replied. There were shots going off again, the Commander swore.  _ “Damn it!” _

_ “Commander!”  _ Brooks called out on the com.  _ This chick is getting annoying, _ Garrus thought to himself.

Not long after he heard an alarm start going off. Shouting in the distance, he must be getting close. He picked up the pace. “Shepard, what’s happening? I can hear an alarm.” 

He heard a voice from across a courtyard, a mercenary yelled. “Find him!” And without pausing Garrus had his rifle in his hands, the shot lined up and taken. The area was locked down, his visor confirmed hostile intent. There was no question when he took the shot. 

_ “It’s all under control!” _ Shepard replied into the com. Sounding tired, voice strained, possibly laced with pain, but he held it tight.

Liara cut back in.  _ “There are alarms going off across the wards. What’s the situation?” _

Huffing a laugh between shots from his pistol, Shepard replied. “ _ Thought I’d make things more interesting.” _

“We need to sit down and have a chat about your methods,” the asari sighed. Although she seemed a little calmer now that her partner was adding humor back into his words.

Garrus’ visor pinged with a message. A quick flick of his eye brought it up. A map. “Shepard, EDI sent me the Navpoint for the skycar lot. Meet you there.” The Commander hummed in agreement, seemingly things had gotten quiet on his end again. So he took advantage. “What do we know about these mercenaries?”

Sarcasm dripped off the human’s answer.  _ “They have guns and don’t like me.” _

_ “That’s not helpful,” _ came the demure asari’s voice in reply.

Brooks came back before Shepard could say anything in retort. “ _ Commander, it would really be great if you could stay off the comm _ .” She sounded annoyed. Obviously the mercenaries knew where they were, why did it matter if they bantered? Even if the channel was unsecure, which it definitely wasn’t. Something was up with this ‘ _ Staff Analyst’ _ . 

_ “Hey, they called me!” _ he defended.

Garrus kept moving, nearly there now. He could see the signs for the lot, revealing it to be another half kilometer down the strip. He saved his breath for running. Listening in as Brooks broke her own rule. Voice shrill.  _ “Commander! There’s a C-Sec shuttle inbound if you can get to the skycar lot!” _

He half stumbled as he came to a stop outside the dealership. “Wait… there shouldn’t be a C-Sec anything inbound.” he said out loud, but not over the com. Something was wrong. 

“ _ Understood _ ,” Shepard replied smoothly. Staying silent as the Analyst stumbled over her words, completely over the top for how she had handled the rest of the conversation. It was all fake. He’d have to have words with this woman, once they got out of there.

He jogged across the dealership’s floor, slowing to a swagger as Shepard came into view. His visor scan showing them to be clear of hostiles for now. He grinned at the human, critically eyeing the red splotch on his side and the dried lines on his arms and face, obviously the fish tank’s glass had cut him up a bit. His new suit was ruined. 

“So…” he drawled, voice smooth and level. “Having a bad day, Shepard?”

The smile that the biotic threw back was relieved. “You could say that.” His shoulders dropped as he released a breath. Relief obvious.

“Nice suit,” the turian quipped, voice dripping with sarcasm. Suddenly things just felt so normal, Shepard needed help and he was there. Banter and a crack shot. No Reapers. 

“Not funny,” he replied with a mock glare as he laughed. When the human quieted his face took on a more serious look. “Does this mean we’re okay?”

Garrus cocked his head to the side, confused at the quick change in tone. “Shepard?”

“Earlier,” he explained, almost tentatively. “You said, best friend. But haven’t been talking to me for weeks. I… I need to know that we’re okay. Are we?”

He softened, passing the Commander a package of medigel. “We always were. I’ve always got your six, Shepard. I’m just,” he paused, taking a breath to choose his words. “Dealing with some shit. Stuck in my head. Hard to pull out, you know?”

“Yeah. I get that,” he acknowledged, shoulders rising as though a weight had been lifted off of him. “Regardless, thanks for coming.”

“Always,” he said before turning away and scanning the room. “Landing pad is over there, but it’s behind a locked gate.” He gestured to the opposing end of the room. “But I don’t like this, C-Sec should be obeying their lockdown procedures. This isn’t right.”

Shepard shrugged. “Let’s look for a control panel. We’ll figure it out.”

The turian hummed in agreement, passing the human a few thermal clips as they started moving. “Word is you fell through a fish tank.” 

A sigh. “We’ll talk about it later.”

“Damn shame,” he needled. “Real good food there.”  

Shepard shoved his arm. “We’ll talk about it later.” 

They found the dealership’s owner cowering in his office. A quick negotiation had him opening the doors for them, and they headed for the extraction point. The shuttle was just coming into view when they walked outside. Unfortunately, Garrus was proven correct when the doors opened to an additional five mercs shooting at them wildly.

“Get back!” the turian shouted, covering the Commander and pushing him to cover. His shields and armor took the damage with only a small complaint, the former sizzling out and dying at the last second.

“Shepard!” Came a shout from above them, it was Liara. Glowing blue, her normally serene face furious. She threw a singularity out, the mercenaries were caught in the middle of it. Banging against the roof and walls of the shuttle like dolls in zero-gravity. When she detonated it, the shuttle came crashing down, the mercs dead. One was thrown out onto the landing pad between Shepard and the shuttle.

Liara jumped down, biotics softening the fall. Stalking up to the downed merc, she forcibly turned him over and, once confirming he was dead, she took his omnitool chip and his weapon. The latter she passed to Shepard. “Thanks,” he said taking it and then he took a moment to touch his partner, a warm hand to her cheek. She visibly calmed at his proximity, face falling into the serene mask she usually kept. “Better?” he asked.

She nodded. “Are you alright?”

“Been better,” he admitted. The human might’ve said more, but the mercenaries chose that moment to come back in force. A smoke grenade breaking one of the glass windows in the dealership before twelve men shattered the remaining ones. 

“Shepard, we got a way out of here?” Garrus asked, shouldering his rifle and taking his first shot.

“Garrus, I’m a professional!” came the easy banter in his reply.

“That’s not a yes,” Liara shot back.

“It’s not a no!” 

They didn’t need to fight for much longer before their pilot’s familiar voice came over the com.  _ “Commander! I’m on my way. Just picked up Brooks, we figured you’d have a few questions.” _

“Joker, we lost our ride!” Shepard called back, in cover while he reloaded. “Good call with Brooks. Where are you?”

Again the human female’s voice filtered over the com.  _ “Commander, did C-Sec find you? Are you ok?” _

“Yes and no. Mercs in a C-Sec shuttle.” 

“ _ What!”  _ The surprise in her voice was fake. Garrus’ time at C-Sec had taught him what to listen for, Omega reinforced it. The subtleties were easier for a turian to hear than it would have been for a human.

“Little busy right now,” he said by means of shutting her up.

Over the course of the next few minutes, their pilot continued to keep them updated.  _ “Almost there, Commander! Hang on.” _ When he did get within sightlines he let them know, not forgetting to add a typical quip at the end. _ “Approaching your position, Commander. Just following the gunfire.”  _

“Copy that,” Shepard replied sounding relieved. His arm moving up in the signal that meant retreat. Garrus went first, moving to cover nearer the shuttle to provide cover fire for his remaining squadmates. Shepard, was next since he was unarmored. Followed closely by Liara. For the jaunt to the waiting vehicle she pulled up a barrier, keeping herself and Shepard inside of it. Garrus followed once they were secure. 

“Sorry I’m late,” came the pilot’s smooth voice once the door had closed. “Had to take the scenic route.” He chanced a glance over his shoulder, EDI sitting in the co-pilot’s seat beside him.

“Scenic route?” The third occupant of the shuttle shouted back at him. “We nearly crashed four times! Where the hell did you learn to drive?” She was strapped in on the bench furthest from the cockpit. Grip on the restraints white knuckled.

Shepard sat down across from her, introducing the human. “Garrus, Liara. This… is Staff Analyst Brooks.”

Garrus’ eyes narrowed, his pistol rising to take aim at the human woman. “Hands where I can see them!” he spoke firmly, the old routine coming back to him with ease. He ignored the surprised noise from Joker and Liara saying his name. “I said, hands up.”

“I… Commander…” she looked to the human male, eyes wide. 

He had no sympathy. Trusting Garrus implicitly. “Do as he says.”

+-+-+-

And so the next two days of shore leave passed them by in a blur. Garrus was correct, Brooks was dirty. It made their job more difficult, with her out of the picture, but Kasumi stepped in to lend a helping hand. With Liara’s Shadow Broker resources at their disposal, Miranda’s insider information from Cerberus, and Garrus’ C-Sec connections they connected the dots. 

Pulling off an elaborate infiltration mission. Finding and killing Shepard’s clone, taking down the Cat-6 mercenaries. It was a busy time. Not quite as relaxing as the Commander had originally hoped, but a bit of a break from the war in it’s own way. 

There wasn’t much time to spend in the Armax Arena, like the Commander had originally wanted, but he did manage to score a little downtime once the mercs were dealt with. Spending a few hours with each of his crewmates. He bailed Grunt out of jail. Spent an afternoon on the town with Miranda. Flew with Steve, played games with Samantha and Zaeed. Somehow ended up in a Blasto film with Javik. Finally watched Fleet and Flotilla with Tali. Beat Aria’s high score in the arena with Jack. It was a good week.

Each past or current member of his time managed to squeeze in a little time. Liara got a little extra for all she’d put up with. And Garrus, didn’t take any. The turian spent the entire week working with the refugees.

Thus Shepard had come up with a plan. Just devious enough, that it might work.

+-+-+-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What on Earth is Shepard thinking? Hmmm...


	13. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard's surprise for Garrus is better than he hoped it would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back! Emotional and steamy. Oh how I loved writing this one.

“I told you I’d stay for a drink and I have, Shepard.” Garrus sighed as he was pulled back to the human’s bar yet again. “This will be number three and I really do have to get back…”

“No, what you need to do is relax for a bit.” Shepard admonished as he shoved a glass into his hand for the third time that evening. “Come on, G. You’ve been running yourself ragged for weeks. Hell, I haven’t even seen you sleep in the past month.”

He sighed, long and frustrated, his sub harmonics a mess underneath of it. For once he was thankful for the lack of other turians in the room. Taking a sip of the beverage more to appease his best friend than anything, he leaned back against the bar. Picking at the collar of his suit. Not only had the human managed to make him attend the party, but Tali had forced new civilian clothing on him. “Last one.”

Throwing his hands up, Shepard complained. “Come onnnnn! Party’s barely started, we’re still missing people.” Dropping them to his sides, he shrugged. “Please, stay?”

“You’ve got a lot more guests to entertain than just me, Shepard. Promise you won’t even know I’m gone,” the turian tried to reassure him as he looked around the first floor. Asking, “Who’s missing?” when he’d realised that everyone who he’d thought was coming, was already present. Including Kasumi, if that tell tale shimmer was any indication over by the guestroom when he’d arrived.

The Commander drew out a long hesitant  _ ‘uhm’  _ noise before deciding to bail, fening that he’d heard someone calling him. “Was that Liara?” he asked, slinking away. “Just wait a little longer. Okay?” he called out over his shoulder.

“Fine, Shepard.” He waved him off, turning to chat with Zaeed who’d taken up a seat at the bar as though he owned it. Sighing again, he dropped his face into his drink. He really didn’t want to be here. The suit, while very nice in it’s soft, warm fabric, all gunmetal silver and Palaven blues, wasn’t his armor. He felt underdressed.

“What’s eating you?” the ex-mercenary asked after a moment. Eying him up and down once before taking a sip of his whiskey. The amber liquid swirling around in his glass.

Garrus shrugged, single-armed as per usual. He gave off an air of nonchalance as best he could considering his foul mood. He might’ve replied, but it was Jack who did so instead. Hopping up to sit on the bar, behind Zaeed. One boot on the edge of the old merc’s chair. “More like who,” she said in a sing-song voice, all to warm and happy sounding to be anything but sarcasm. “Or who isn’t.”

Rolling his eyes, in a distinctly human way, he shook his head. “What? You a therapist now as well as a babysitter?” he teased with a half grin.

She threw a balled up napkin at him. “Shut it, birdy.” The turian huffed a breath, not quite a laugh, but closer than he’d have thought possible. Her expression changed again, sly grin coming back in full force. “By the looks of it? Your night’s about to get a hell of a lot better.” She inclined her head towards the front, eyes indicating towards the apartment’s door.

“What do you mean?” Garrus asked, already turned halfway around. Before he could stop himself, a name fell from his mouth. Eyes locked where Jack’s had been. “Adrien.” His heart skipped a beat, breath catching. He didn’t care that she laughed, or that Zaeed questioned his abrupt change in tone and temperament. He was already moving.

Before he realised it, he was halfway across the room. Shepard was already at the door, greeting the Primarch warmly. A knowing smile plastered on his face. ‘ _ He’d planned this _ ,’ Garrus suddenly realised. That’s why he’d wanted him to stay. ‘ _ Sneaky bastard _ .’

“Welcome to the party, Primarch Victus. We’re glad you could make it,” Shepard was saying.

Adrien smiled back at him, attention entirely on the human male. “Always a pleasure Commander. I’m pleased our ships crossed paths on the way to Earth. I told you I’d bring you an army.” His gaze moved upwards, over the human’s head to look directly at his Advisor. 

Hungry golden eyes burrowing straight into glacial blue. “I always deliver on my promises,” he almost purred. That look made the sniper stumble to a stop. “Advisor Vakarian,” he greeted, voice still in that dangerously low register the undertones imperceptible to the non-turians in the room, but blatant to him. “What a surprise.”

Shepard’s smirk grew bigger as he excused himself, elbowing the Advisor in the ribs as he walked by. “Told you we didn’t have everyone here yet,” he laughed.

“Traitor,” Garrus growled back, watching Shepard jog off into the arms of his amused looking asari, who was standing in the kitchen watching them. Liara waved, telling of her involvement as well. He dragged his own gaze back to the door, Adrien was watching him now.

He cleared his throat. “Primarch,” he began, unsure of where they stood on public displays of affection. Slowly the younger turian took the last few paces to close the gap between them.

Adrien made the decision easy, opening his arms to accept the younger male. Pulling him in close, one hand on the back of his neck the other intimately placed around his waist, on his lower back. He went ninety percent of the way to bringing his crest to Garrus’, waiting patiently for him to complete the last ten. The sniper did so without hesitation. Shoulders dropping as the tension fell out of him. A rush of air coming as his lungs deflated.   

“I didn’t know you were coming,” Garrus whispered, eyes closed not ready to pull back just yet. Heedless of the rest of the crew watching them with undisguised interest.

The soothing hum Victus made hushed his partner. “Wouldn’t have missed it,” he told him. “Heard you kept trying to leave. I’m glad Shepard managed to get you to stay.” Adrien pulled back, not letting go quite yet, but wanting to see his partner’s face. “What do you need?” he asked, seeing the tiredness in his Advisor’s eyes. The dullness of his plates.

“How long can you stay?” Garrus deflected, grip growing a little stronger on the older male’s cowl. A half step in leaving him within easy range for a taste of Reverie, close enough to feel Adrien’s breath on his mouth. He didn’t get any quite yet, but the temptation was there.

The hand on the back of his neck slid around to cup the side of his face, thumb caressing the newest scar bisecting his colonial markings. Just another mark to add the the innumerable others. “Until morning. Come, let’s relax with your crew until I steal you away for the night.”

Those that knew Adrien were quick to greet him, most even able to hide their surprise at seeing Garrus hand in hand with him. The Normandy was a small ship, but Garrus had years of practice hiding relations. There was no reason for anyone to suspect they’d been more than superior and subordinate working closely together as the only two turians on board. Friends definitely? But lovers? That would have been difficult to figure out, especially for a crew not versed in turian courtship. 

Jack admitted she’d found out when she’d been aboard with her students. Seeing Garrus leave the Primarch’s quarters in the early morning hours, still adjusting his collar and sporting a fresh bondmark on his neck. Liara and Shepard had known from early on, as well as EDI and Joker. Their quarian ally punched Garrus in the arm,  _ for not telling me sooner,  _ before hugging him and saying she was happy for them. He thanked her for help with the suit, knowing now why she had been so insistent.

The dumbfounded looks on James and Kaidan had been a slight surprise. Cortez had given the turians a knowing look, promising to set the human soldiers straight. But not before James had pipped up. “Damn scars, I don’t care or nothing. I’m just... surprised?” the marine had said. 

Garrus just laughed. “Jealous, Jimmy?” His voice lowering to a rumble that made his partner chuckle and the human blush bright red, before swearing and finishing his drink in one go.

Zaeed poured them drinks and regaled them with a story about shacking up with a turian informant years ago, he was, of course, the only one that made it out alive. Samara was demure; Samantha pleased; Kasumi giggled knowingly; Miranda actually smiled.

By the time the night was through, they’d managed to spend a few minutes with everyone. Talking, laughing. It was a nice change. The war actually fell away for those quiet hours.

“Ready?” Adrien whispered into his lover’s neck as they lounged on the couch, the party coming to a close as partners paired off to bedrooms and singles found comfortable places to sprawl. 

Garrus’ pleased hum preceded his answer. “Yes, sir.”

“Come with me,” he said, taking the younger male’s hand and pulling him towards the first floor bedroom. A few quick clicks on his omnitool had the door sliding open for them. “I took the liberty of asking the Commander for a room.”

“I like the way you think,” chucked the sniper. Alcoholic buzz following him in the easy laugh, not enough to be too sorry in the morning, thankfully, but enough that he was relaxed and pliant. When the door closed, he wasted no time pressing the lock and pushing his partner against the hard surface. “Missed you.” He leaned in, weight solid against the slightly taller turian, hands wrapping around his cowl.

One of Victus’ grasped the sniper’s chin, pulling him in for a taste of Reverie. The other moved to the clasps of his tunic, wanting to see bare plates. “Spirits, Garrus. I’ve missed you,” he mumbled into his mouth as they came together. Tongues battling for dominance, exploring each other all too hurried. He couldn’t get the younger male’s clothing off fast enough, growling he pulled at the cloth a little harder. “Off.”

His Advisor was quick to obey, pulling back enough to put on a show as he’d done the first time Victus had given him that command. Hands were quick on clasps, the tunic parting to slide down his arms and to the floor. His visor went next as he backed up, thighs colliding with the edge of the mattress, Victus following him closely. Drawn in by the easy grin and leith figure. 

The eye piece was carefully placed on the nightside table, Garrus had to stretch backwards in a tantalizing display of flexibility as he sprawled out on the bed to reach. Obviously purposefully done.

“See something you like?” he asked smoothly, voice light, eyes needy, breaths coming too fast. Laughter overtook him as the Primarch all but pounced on top of him, mouth to his neck worrying at the, now scarred over, bondmark. Hands sliding up his impossibly lean abdomen before sliding back down, talons lightly scoring the sensitive hide. Ignoring the fact it felt like Garrus was thinner than last time they were together, pushing the implications from his mind to focus on the fact his partner was in front of him, safe.

“Definitely,” Adrien replied too slowly. Garrus might have said something, but stopped when the elder rumbled deep in his chest as he mouthed over the scar, tongue chasing teeth. Hands found hip bones, ducking under the cloth to caress and tease. “Been too long.”

The sniper’s own hands worked at his superior’s shirt, the fabric soft under his talons and against his chest. He needed to feel the older male’s heat against his own. Only barely stopping short of cutting the damn thing off when Adrien pulled back to divest himself of it. Pulling the garment over his head and tossing it to the side.

Garrus laved the newer bondmark on his left shoulder, leaving the old faded one on his right alone. He didn’t want to think about Adrien’s previous life. Or his own for that matter. All that mattered was this moment, not the war outside or past lovers.

It was just Garrus and Adrien. 

Kicking off his soft leather boots was a bit of a challenge, but Vakarian managed it without pulling away from his lover’s throat. His hands remaining busy, caressing hide and plate. Intent on finding sensitive places he’d yet to discover, draw more delicious sounds from his partner. 

“Mhm… keep doing that and this’ll be over a lot faster than you want it to be, love.” Adrien moaned into his neck, shuddering slightly when Garrus’ talons found a particularly good spot along the edge of the Primarch’s seam. 

Adrien closed his eyes a moment to refocus. Noticing the sniper’s usually solid hands were shaking, with their chests pressed together he could feel the too quick rhythm of his heartbeat. The Primarch’s concern began to outweigh his want for touch. The physical need in himself couldn’t outweigh his partner’s emotional ones.

The younger turian couldn’t help his whine as the older pulled back again, this time grabbing his hands and pinning them down to the bed on either side of him. “Want to touch you,” he complained, hips rising to meet the elder’s.

“We should talk,” Adrien replied, shaking his head slightly. When Garrus grew still, he reassured him. “I plan to have you continue this after. A lot’s gone on this past month, I’d like you to share your burden with me.”

Looking away, Garrus clamped his mandibles tight to his face. “You’ve read my reports.”

“Reports that every other General in the Hierarchy has read,” releasing one hand he gently pulled the sniper’s face back to his own. “Talk to me.”

“After,” he pled, ice-blue eyes open and honest in his request. “Just need you. Need my mate. I… I…” Adrien cut him off with tongue and teeth, claiming his mouth hard. Garrus melted into him, released hands grasping at his back, while the Primarch’s own pulled him in deeper. 

When he was relaxed and pliant again, Adrien pulled back. “After,” he agreed, though from his tone Garrus knew he wouldn’t be able to avoid it. He knew the older turian prefered to control their closed door time, but he wasn’t ready to talk. He needed time to lose himself first. Adrien seemed to understand that. 

Force was unnecessary.  

By the time the Primarch was finished dosing him, his plates were so ready to spread that he was leaking preparatory fluid from his seam. Garrus ground his hips up into Adrien’s, hands leaving his partner to relieve himself of his pants. His relief audible when they came unlatched and he sprang free. Next he moved to the Primarch’s own and he unlatched them. Talons caressing the widening seam, focusing in on the space he’d found earlier, causing the older male to buck and gasp.

“I want you, Garrus. I want you badly,” Adrien ground out between tight breaths. He was absolutely aching for the younger male, his want to take him overwhelming. Fuck him into the bed until he screamed. Maybe hard enough to make walking difficult in the morning.

He felt the younger male’s crest against his first, then the soft rumble of need from below him. The whispered, _ take me _ , was all he needed to fall from his sheath. So fast he made himself dizzy. His mouth devouring his partner’s, barely restrained need coming off him in waves.

Some creative hip movement on Garrus’ part had them fully on the bed, pants around the younger male’s knees. Without missing a beat, Victus began making his way down the scarred chest in front of him, removing the rest of his partner’s clothing and settling between his knees. 

The first lick was tentative, from base to tip, along the underside of his shaft. The Advisor’s keen and barely restrained hip thrust upwards proved it to be an excellent choice. Adrien had never performed quite like this, he’d loosened partners with his tongue before, but never actually tasted a partner’s phallus. The taboo excited him a little. Victus’ rough tongue travelled all too slowly across his younger partner’s member, each ridge garnering attention.

“Spirits…” Garrus was moaning, hands not quite sure where to land, ended up on his shoulders. 

Adrien’s gentle treatment was about to get more intense as he slicked his talons with lubricant from his pocket before probing at his entrance. The sniper tensed, stiff as a board, at the initial contact. Continued licks and soft touches along his hips and abdomen had him calming. “Nuh… oh... Primarch. Ah.”

“That’s it,” Adrien hummed back at him, punctuating it with a strong lave. As he kept pleasuring his partner he was becoming lost in the act. The musky smell of his arousal, sickeningly sweet taste of his natural lubricant on his tongue. The feel of his muscles clamping down on his talons and the smooth hide under his tongue. Whimpers of need assaulted his ears. His eyes remained closed, he didn’t think he could handle seeing what he was doing to his partner. 

A few more minutes and he was using all his strength to hold the junior’s hips down. Relentless in his quest to ensure his partner was enjoying himself. Garrus’ hands had fallen from his shoulders to the sheets, scrambling for purchase on the silk. Head thrown back in lust. “Need… oh pl… please I need. Sir. Primarch. Please. Ah. Need.”

“Tell me, Garrus. What do you need?” he rumbled back around a smile.

A tremor passed through him as Adrien kept him on the edge, he opened his eyes to look up at his ecstasy ridden partner. “To come please… oh… fu… need. So bad.” Ice-blue eyes met his own, fogged with lust.

“Soon, love.” He nipped and licked his way up the younger male’s chest. His fingers slowing to an agonizing pace. “Ready for me?” he asked, already knowing that he most definitely was. A combination of too much stimulus, stress, and time making him loose in anticipation. Combined with the extra lubricant he was more than prepared. Turian’s generally made enough of their own, but he hadn’t wanted to chance it. This being the first time since the assault that Garrus had taken him.

“Please,” the sniper begged, arms wrapping around his partner’s shoulders. He whined at the loss of contact when Adrien’s fingers left him, only to cry out when they were replaced. The taller turian hilted himself in one smooth thrust, then waited.

If his own breathing was ragged, then Garrus’ was absolutely torn to shreds. His back bowed, talons dug into his shoulders, throat bared. Between the look of sheer ecstasy on his partner’s face, his tightness and heat, the Primarch almost came right then. He held out, only just.

Although, that didn’t mean Garrus needed to wait. 

“Come for me,” he whispered into his mate’s ear. Instantaneously he complied. And only once he began to come did Victus start to move. Dragging the younger male’s orgasm out with each powerful thrust. Almost exiting him each time, then hilting. 

Adrien didn’t last long. 

Maybe ten thrusts before finishing himself, collapsing on his partner. Heedless of the mess he made between them. Panting and shaking from the relief, just as bad as Garrus was.

It took a few minutes for him to regain his composure enough to relieve his partner of his weight. Groaning as he pulled out, the mess from their coupling slicking him in the dimly lit room. “I’ll be right back,” he rumbled quietly. Pushing himself up, he stood looking down at his exhausted partner for a moment. Not entirely sure if Garrus had heard him, he appeared to be asleep. The Primarch’s smile was fond, albeit slightly worried.

It wasn’t just Shepard that was taking this war personally. 

Finally managing to pull himself away, he headed for the attached washroom. Wiping himself off quickly before preparing a warm, damp cloth for his partner. He stepped into the doorway and stopped again, Garrus was most definitely asleep. Leaning against the doorway he watched him for a minute, his chest rising and falling evenly. Sprawled on the mattress, completely inelegantly. A slight rumbling snore coming from deep in his throat.

Adrien padded slowly back to his side, running his hand along silver fringe once soothingly before sliding the cloth over the reopened bond mark on his shoulder and down his sodden abdomen. When his Advisor didn’t stir he carefully swept the cloth over the back of his thighs and bottom as well. Dropping the cloth off the side of the bed when he was done and sliding on to the mattress. 

The position he took was higher up on the bed than the younger turian’s. Allowing him to adjust Garrus until he was pressed against his chest. The Primarch’s arm under his head, supporting his fringe on the human styled bed. He was careful, but the movement jostled his bedmate enough to rouse him.

“Adrien?” Came the groggy question after a sharp intake of breath. 

The older turian hushed his partner, humming soothingly. “Just me, go back to sleep.”

At first Garrus relaxed back, snuggling further into the Primarch’s side. But after a half minute or so he jolted up. “Wait, how long was I asleep?” Adrenalin making him fully awake in seconds.

Adrien cocked his head to the side in confusion at the younger’s sudden alertness. “Only a few minutes, love. It’s alright,” he hushed as he pushed the younger male down to the bed. 

“No, it’s not. I don’t want to waste our time.”

His smile was small and genuine as he looked down at his bondmate. Dragging a hand across his remaining colony paint, before wrapping it around the side of his head. Pulling him in for another taste of Reverie. He drew out the kiss for a few minutes until he was light headed, knowing that Garrus would be too. “You need rest. I’m here for whatever you need. Even if that means sleeping while I hold you.”

The sniper looked away, sheepishly. “That sounds…”

When he stopped short Adrien supplied an ending for him, voice light and undertoned with his amusement. “Good? I hope.”

“Better than good,” Garrus hummed back. Pressing into his partner’s chest, mouth finding his throat and worrying at his bondmark. “I can think of a few things that would be  _ good  _ too.” The hand not trapped between them found its way from his chest to the unplated and sensitive parts of the elder’s waist. 

Combined with his attention on his throat, Adrien couldn’t help but moan. “Spirits save me from my insatiable mate.” He could feel the younger male’s grin and he relinquished more real estate to him by inclining his head a bit more, exposing his throat. 

Garrus took full advantage for a minute before stopping abruptly and pulling away. 

By the time he pulled back, the Primarch was ready for another round. Only the haunted look in his partner’s eyes stopped him from pouncing again. “Garrus? Talk to me.” He shook his head. And so Adrien had to take matters into his own talons. Moving quickly, he rolled himself on top of the younger male, grabbing for his wrists and pinning the, mostly willing, turian down. “What has you so on edge?”

Again, he shook his head no. Eyes staring away, hollow, into the distance. 

“Please.”

The younger’s eyes snapped back to his partners. It wasn’t often Adrien used that word. “You trust me,” he said as though it were obvious what he meant. 

“You’re going to have to elaborate, love.”

Eyes shut, he sighed. “I killed my last lover. Tried to kill the one before that, and would have if Shepard hadn’t knocked some sense into me. Why do you trust me?”

“As I understand it? They both betrayed you. Did they not?” Adrien waited for some kind of acknowledgment, when he didn’t get one he continued. “I have no plans to do that. We’ve bonded Garrus.” He pressed his forehead to the younger male’s, pleased when he felt the tiniest hint of reciprocation. “I don’t know what drew you to them, what I do know? Is that I will never. ever. betray you. What can I do to prove it to you?”

The sniper’s breath caught over the words and he keened. Heart in agony over what he’d been forced to do. Finally allowing himself relief for the past month of grief, no outlet for his pain. 

“Tell me Garrus. Tell me what happened.”

And so he did. As he laid under his partner, wrists trapped above his head and crest pressed up into the other male’s he finally let it all out. The initial reasoning for his relationship with Wrex, his resentment over his leaving for his own people after Shepard’s death. The reason for that inexplicable two year absence in his Hierarchy Citizen file. His brief time with Lantar. Trying to make sense of Omega and almost dying after the older turian had sold his team out to the mercs. The memorized litany of his squad’s names.

The emotional reunion with his krogan teammate. Before and then again, after the war started. His meeting Eve, the gradual pullback from Wrex. The Battlemaster’s encouragement of his relationship with the Primarch. Followed by his jealousy and subsequent punishment. 

“And then… Shepard told me the truth.” 

Garrus finally stopped to catch his breath, pulling away as much as the bed allowed. Growing tense, every muscle tightening under Adrien’s body and talons. “The truth about what, Garrus?”

“Are you sure you want to know?” he asked without hesitation, ice-blue eyes finally opening to stare up into the stormy-golden ones of the older turian. 

He nodded slowly. “You can tell me anything. There doesn’t need to be secrets between us.” Hell, he’d already mentioned how he’d actually been fucking the leader of the krogan clans for years, not to mention that he was the Archangel of Omega, it couldn’t get much worse.

Or so he thought. 

“The genophage cure?” he said, voice strong. Not wavering. “It was fake.”

Colour dropped from the Primarch’s neck. He pulled back without really meaning to, ending up sitting on the edge of the bed before he’d even realised he moved. Garrus let him go, his own hands dropping to cover his face. He dragged his talons through the ridges of his fringe, leaving marks behind, but not quite breaking the hide.

The room was silent. Only a slow drip from the drain in the washroom making a sound, not even the environmental system dared to come on. After a few failed attempts to say something, Garrus gave up. He couldn’t decide where to land emotionally. Numb or angry. He didn’t know where Adrien landed either, his stare blanker than he’d ever seen it. Even when the blue marked turian had told him about Tarquin, he saw grief. Right now there was nothing. 

“When did you find out?” Victus broke the silence after what seemed like an eternity. “Before or after Shepard sabotaged the cure?”

“After,” he answered honestly. “Only an hour or two before I…” he coughed, steeling himself so he could finish. “Before I had to kill Wrex. He found out. Attacked Shepard at the docks, came at him with a shotgun while he was off duty. Endangered civilians.”

He sighed. Garrus knew what this information could do, it made sense that he’d kept it quiet. Even from him. Not trusting the communication channels they had available to them with such damning information. From his Advisor’s reports knew the clan leader was dead and that Garrus had killed him, but didn’t know the real reason. Now he did. 

It was oddly comforting to know for certain it was self defence. His mind had supplied too many possibilities when he initially found out. He hated himself for thinking it, but revenge had come to mind too quickly and wasn’t easily banished.

Regardless, the bulk of the krogan still didn’t know Wrex was dead. Although, even before he died, they were splintering. Those on Palaven helping only because it meant killing Reapers, glory and bloodlust keeping them honest.

“It isn’t your fault, Garrus.” He said turning back around to look at the grief stricken male. “The Commander wouldn’t have made that decision lightly.”

He wasn’t quite expecting the anger as Garrus shot up, hands spread wide out in front of him. “Don’t you think I know that?” he all but yelled. “Ruthless calculus. One dead krogan so that Shepard lives. Even if it was Urdnot Wrex. Even if we used to mean something to each other.” He pushed back, sliding off the bed to pace the room. “Regardless of what he was to me, I wouldn’t let him kill Shepard. Even if he hadn’t of done what he did.”

Victus let him pace. 

“I trusted Wrex with my life, and he threw me aside the first chance he got. Told me, I made him look weak,” he scoffed. “As though I didn’t survive a rocket to the face after enduring against Omega’s gangs alone for three days. As though I didn’t have a hand in taking down Saren, or killing a thresher maw on foot, or the countless other missions I completed before even meeting him. As though I hadn’t been offered Spectre status in my own right before all this shit started. Or made detective in record time at C-Sec.”

Garrus stopped facing the far wall, hands in fists at his sides, his back a stiff line. “And you know what the worst part is?” he asked. When Adrien didn’t reply he completed his thought. “If I’d been in Shepard’s place? I would have done the same damn thing. I would have doomed his people to slow extinction if it meant gaining support for Palaven.”

The Primarch stood up and crossed the room to stand a pace behind his partner. “You were willing to do anything to save our people. There’s nothing wrong with that.” He swallowed the growing lump in his throat before his admission. “I can’t help but feel responsible for what Wrex did to you. His threats, however serious or empty they were, forced you to comply. I blame myself for forcing you into a relationship with me. If I had of left you alone, Wrex wouldn’t have had reason...”

“Stop.” Garrus said, so quiet that Adrien barely heard him. “He’d have done the same damn thing either way. He had to prove to Eve, or maybe just to himself, that he didn’t care about me. Why he chose... that? Doesn’t matter. It’s done. He’s dead.” 

“Did Shepard know?”

He regretted changing the subject almost immediately. The tension in the sniper’s shoulders got worse, easily visible in his unclothed state. So tight, Adrien thought he might snap if he was touched. The hand he’d raised fell lamely back to his side. Garrus’ head dropped to stare down at the floor. “Not exactly.” The Primarch waited for him to fill the silence. After a minute or so he continued. “Knew we fought the night before. Wasn’t until after it was done that he found out the rest.”

“Garrus, what can I do?” he asked softly, he was at a loss. Regretting he’d brought up all these old feelings, regretting he forced his younger partner to live his pain yet again. And even more than that, he regretted there was nothing he could have done to stop it. 

His shoulders dropped, a sigh deflating him. “Nothing,” the ex-cop replied, voice strained. He shook his head after a moment, a half laugh that sounded bitter falling from his mouth. “That’s what I should be asking you. Here I am, spending the past half-hour telling you my life’s story. Your one night of leave, and here you are spending it with me. Why?”

“You’ve asked me that before,” Adrien replied smoothly, a small smile coming to his face. “And I’ll say it again if that’s what you need. I love you, Garrus Vakarian.”

“Why!” he shouted back, turning around so fast he lost balance and stumbled backwards. Barely catching himself before he fell. Exhaustion and alcohol making him dizzy. He stepped back a few paces, back hitting the wall and he sunk down to the floor. Hands wrapping over his fringe, elbows on bent knees.

Once the initial surprise faded, sadness filled Adrien’s eyes. “Is there nothing I can say that will make you believe me? Garrus, love. Please. I don’t want to fight with you.” He slid down to his knees in front of the younger turian, half reaching for him. Afraid he was going to flinch away again. “Let me love you.”

The sniper drew in a shaky breath. Speaking more to himself than to the Primarch. “I’m not going to live through the next week. I shouldn’t have let you bond me, it was selfish. You don’t need to be mourning a mate when this is over.”

Adrien couldn’t stop himself anymore, damn the consequences, he pushed forwards into Garrus’ personal space. “You’re not going anywhere, Garrus. I won’t allow it. Even if I have to order you onto my ship and not let you out of my sight? That’s what I’ll do.”

The younger turian made a surprised noise at the intrusion, but didn’t pull away. He allowed the Primarch’s arms around his shoulders, his body between his knees. “You know I can’t do that,” he said, suddenly sounding sober and more like himself.

“I know,” Adrien replied after a full minute of silence, voice tight. “Instead? Promise me, you’ll come back. Come back so I have time to make you believe me when I tell you that I love you. Let me show you every reason.” He felt he nod against his shoulder and relaxed slightly. 

“I may not understand why?” Garrus said solemnly, pulling back so he could look into the golden eyes of his partner. “But I do believe you, Adrien. I just… I’m not sure if I’ll be able to keep that promise. If I can’t? Know that my spirit will be with you. Because I do love you.” His arms wrapped around the older turian, a slight smile coming to his face. “I never used to know what to do with grey.”

Adrien cocked his head to the side in question. “Grey?”

“Mhmm,” he hummed in agreement. “Black and white. Right and wrong. Easy enough to understand, but shades of grey are harder. The line blurs.” A warm hand closed over the Primarch’s jaw, thumb caressing along the line of his heavy slate-grey mandible. And Adrien understood.

Ice met storm in the seconds before mouths collided.

All the pain, the longing, fell away. Arms tangled together, hands touching at every available inch of plate and hide. Mouths eventually broke apart for breath, Adrien’s moving in quickly to claim his partner’s throat. Garrus allowing him access and groaning with a full bodied shudder. His legs wrapping around the backs of the Primarch’s thighs, pulling him in. 

“Adrien, please. I need you,” he ground out through panted breaths. Hands sliding to caress his partner’s slowly widening seam. 

The older male bit down harder, breaking hide again on his shoulder. Causing Garrus to cry out and his erection to burst from his seam. Adrien’s hand found Garrus’, using it to stroke his phallus a few times before trailing it along his own seam and to his entrance. “Touch me,” he said by way of explanation, letting his jaw relax and release his partner. His tongue followed up the harsh bite, soothing the angry wound.

Garrus complied with his request, talons caressing the sensitive hide at the juncture of his thighs. Pads of his hands rough from years of soldier's work and punishing gym routine. When he felt the older male relax enough he pressed one talon in, then two. Scissoring them to help with the stretch. A deep rumble in his throat as Adrien’s hands worked into the tight muscles in his shoulders and neck. His head falling back against the wall, open for his partner to work. 

After a few minutes his hips were rising in time with the thrusts his talons were making into Adrien. The older turian was lost in the rythm, eyes shut and hum audible. Garrus withdrew, much to the other’s disappointment. Gaining him a mock glare and snarl.

“There’s a perfectly good bed behind you,” he said by way of explanation. Adrien acquiesced, standing on shaky legs and reaching a hand down for his partner. They fell into the bed just seconds later, side by side. “How do you want me?” 

“Inside me,” he said seriously. Garrus rolled his eyes and Adrien laughed. Pulling lightly on the younger turian’s shoulders had him on top and between his thighs. Victus’ legs wrapped around his incredibly thin waist, the sniper’s hands went to the backs of his thighs to caress and relax him. “Garrus, need you.”

He didn’t make him wait long. One hand moving to support his weight over the Primarch and the other angling himself for entrance. He sunk in smoothly, smooth and slow, far too slow for Adrien’s waning patience. His breathy exhale the only sound until the younger turian groaned, finally hilting. “Spirits...” he swore, crest coming down to meet the elder’s. 

Rolling his hips experimentally, Adrien managed to get Garrus moving. Moans loud and the sound of plate hitting plate echoed in the room. The younger turian’s pace became quicker as their natural lubricant mingled and slicked their coupling. Powerful thrusts rocked the Primarch, his head was thrown back, hands scrambling for purchase against the Advisor’s shoulders. 

As he came closer to his peak, Vakarian’s thrusts became more hurried. Erratic, almost. He shuddered, mouth dipping to lick up the curve of Primarch’s exposed throat. Determined to ensure the older male enjoyed their coupling as much as he did, he slid a hand between them. Relishing the groan Victus made as he pumped his length in time with his thrusts.

“Oh, just like that,” the Primarch moaned. 

Garrus smiled into his neck. Moaning loudly before sinking his teeth into the older turian’s bondmark, opening it again. It didn’t take much more for Adrien, he came hard. Dragging his over primed partner with him. 

The mess between them was disregarded in favor of collapsing into an exhausted pile. The bulky sniper falling to the Primarch’s side, the older male’s legs still wrapped securely around his waist. His eyes were closed, breaths slowing as he came down. 

“Come back alive, Garrus.” Adrien said after a short time, when his own breathing became slow and even. “That’s an order.”

Garrus’ eyes opened to lock with Adrien’s. “Yes, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question for those of you who like to comment, and, by the way, you're all welcome and encouraged to! Do you like the in game rehashing scenes with my own adaptations, or do you prefer a quick recap and more focus on the intimate moments between our love interests?
> 
> Just working out how the next chapter is going to go. Final battle scenes? Just a recap of what happened? Either way we're following it up with some intimacy, just a matter of what comes before that. 
> 
> Love ya!


	14. The Beam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final battle and what comes after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday everyone! Hope you enjoy this addition.

Adrien was working away on his omnitool and, despite the dire straits, he was smiling. Garrus had come back to him, looking tired but proud, from the alleged Cerberus Command Centre. Commander Shepard’s crew had succeeded in obtaining the last part of the Crucible, a Prothean VI. As he worked he couldn’t help but listen in on his Advisor. Voice strong as ever, the command presence, that he refuted he had, on display. 

“I want you to coordinate with the Alliance,” he was telling the Captain assigned to stores. “Make sure we iron out these logistical problems.” 

Humming in acknowledgment, the Captain addressed Vakarian smoothly. “The Reapers are playing havoc with our supply lines, sir.”

“See what the salarians have on hand,” came the easy reply. Always the problem solver. “Maybe we can pool our resources.”

“Yes sir, I’ll look into it myself.”

Shoving his nose back into his omnitool as the exchange continued, he hid his proud smile. Despite what Garrus thought of himself, he was making a fine officer. At the least, the younger turian was a good of one as he himself was. Unconventional, but required to help keep the balance. 

A thought struck him, that if Garrus hadn’t of left the Hierarchy military for C-Sec then he might’ve been a Captain under him by now. Well, that or he’d of been picked up for Blackwatch as his sister had been before their mother got sick. He frowned, _ or maybe not… _ considering that the sniper had helped stop the Reaper invasion from coming months earlier than it had when he helped take down Saren. He sighed, shaking his head at the possibilities.

Brought out of his thoughts by a familiar voice, the Primarch looked up to see none other than Commander Shepard entering the turian command centre. “Primarch Victus, I didn’t realize you were here,” the human greeted warmly, all easy words and understated command presence that was all his own. 

“I wanted to return the favor in person,” Victus replied, reaching out a hand to grasp the Commander’s in the human fashion. “Though I’m sorry to see your world looks as bad as ours.” He crossed his arms, leaning back into his heal. A forced relaxation.

Shepard took the cue from him and relaxed his posture, still ready to move, but a far cry from the attention his shoulders held in the moments before. “I’m surprised you’re not back on Palaven,” he said conversationally.

“This war will be one or lost today -here- on Earth, not Palaven. Everything comes down to this moment. And history will record that the turian hierarchy stood among the brave,” his words were as much for Shepard as they were for Garrus and the rest of the turians in the encampment that could overhear them. He needed to sound confident.

Nodding once in agreement, the human changed the subject. “How are things back on Palaven?”

Carefully held sub vocals and tone were used for his next sentence, not quite knowing if Garrus had told the Commander that he knew the truth. “Urdnot Wrex was true to his word. The krogan put up a magnificent fight, fearless to the last soldier,” he was honest in his regret for their deaths. “They bought us time to evacuate civilians. Yet even then, the Reapers were still too much. The only hope for my world now is victory here on Earth.”

“I’m glad we got this chance to speak.”

“Good luck Commander.”

Without further Shepard was gone, stalking off to speak with someone else. That man never seemed to stay in one place very long, with good reason the Primarch suspected. Garus was still working through a few more problems with the remaining General in the room, he tuned in for the last of it. 

“It’s a shame to see another planet get hit like this,” the General was saying, his sub vocals underlining his uncertainty.

“It’ll be the last one if I have anything to say about it,” the sniper replied in an overconfident tone, meant to ease the other turian’s doubts. “This nightmare finally ends today.”

“You really think the Reapers can be defeated?” eyes widened, almost in awe of the turian in front of him. For he had a hand in taking down more than one Reaper on foot, everyone knew it. Hearing it from him was reassuring.

“I know they can. That whole Sovereign business a few years ago… he was the first to die. Now all his friends will, too.”

“Thank you sir,” the General said with a salute. “I best get back to it.”

Garrus accepted the gesture with a nod, not having an official hierarchy rank to accept it otherwise. As the other turian turned to walk off, he called out. “I mean it. We will win this war.” Although the General acknowledged him, Garrus’ eyes were staring directly into Adrien’s when he said it. His heart skipped a beat with the intense look, his entire focus on his mate.

Crossing the small space between them didn’t take more than a few strides from the tall turian’s armor clad legs. Victus barely had presence of mind to hold onto the datapad in his hand as Garrus got into his space, mouth seeking his partner’s for a taste of Reverie. They were alone. He took advantage of that fact, mercilessly. Leaving them both gasping for air and pleasantly high off of the overstressed hormone cocktail. Pulling back only enough to speak, breaths still on each others’.   

“Adrien,” the sniper moaned into the Primarch’s mouth. “If… if this is it? Take care of yourself. Our people need you.”

He didn’t let him go, gauntlet clad hand firmly grasping the back of his partner’s neck, forcing their crests together. “Come back to me.”

“I can’t promise you that.”

“I know,” Victus admitted solemnly.

Garrus hummed reassurance. “Doesn’t mean I won’t try. I will do everything in my power to make it back to you. If you still want me when this war’s over? I’m yours.”

“Of course I will,” Adrien replied almost offended, too quick and possessive as he dropped the damn datapad and pulled the younger in towards his chest. Close enough that their armor clanked together. “You are mine, Garrus. Don’t forget that. You will come back to me, because I demand it.” He stole his mouth again, one last dose of Reverie to take them through until they saw each other again. “Because I love you.”

When they reluctantly pulled apart, Garrus breaths were just as ragged as his own. A blue flush on his neck, eyes pained. “I love you too,” he said in an even tone, even as his sub harmonics keened in sorrow for their goodbye. A small smile made its way to his face. “If it isn’t too much trouble? I’ve got an order for you too. Come back alive. It’d be an awfully empty galaxy without you.”

One last half second press of crests was all Adrien got before Garrus pulled back, and strode out without looking back. Knowing that if he took the time to stop, he might never walk out that door. Shepard needed him. The turian people needed him. Hell, the entire Galaxy needed him.

It didn’t matter that Adrien Victus needed him too.

+-+-+-

The battle ended in a flash of light. 

Reapers fell from the sky. Collapsed across the battlefield, legs buckling underneath them. Half groans and screeches suddenly cut off as silence descended and the Reaper ground troops disintegrated. It was only moments before the collectives sighs of relief became cheers. 

They had won.

+-+-+

Standing on the bridge of his ship, Primarch Victus stared blankly at his console. Hands gripping tight to the sides of the screen, hard enough for the metal surround to complain at the treatment. It had been nearly a month since the war ended, the Final Push, is what the humans had named it. The turian fleet had been readied.

It was time to go home.

The primary relays had been fixed; the red beam having temporarily shut them down. Hardwork and determination had them fixed and the turians on their way to Palaven. The quarians would accompany them, providing food and support from their live ships in exchange for protection on their way to Rannoch, at the far end of the galaxy, once they were able to reestablish connections to the outer worlds.

He sighed, closed eyes opening to look up and give the order. Hand raised, gauntlet covered talons out in front of him, he gave the anticipated command. “Engage.” 

Answering with a vibrant, yessir, the pilot took them out. He felt the FTL engines spool up, the familiar pull as they began to move. His crew cheered.

Adrien did not join them.

How could he? Not when his mind was stuck on Earth. Frozen in place from the time he’d been given the news, the  _ Normandy _ was missing. “Missing?” he’d asked, incredulous. “How could the flagship of the Reaper War go missing?” It turned out, easily.

The last time the ship had been seen, it was on the battlefield. Evacuating Commander Shepard’s crewmates, Doctor Liara T’Soni and Reaper Advisor Garrus Vakarian after a particularly nasty hit. One, or both, of them had severe enough injuries to warrant a dangerous evac. It had apparently been successful, but the ship hadn’t been seen since it exited orbit. Apparently, vanishing into the vacuum of space.

Commander Shepard had been able to go on to finish what he’d started. His team safe, he made it to the beam and subsequently to the Citadel where he activated the Crucible. The red light shooting out, shutting down anything using Reaper technology. Killing the Reapers themselves, rendering them inert. The Geth went into hibernation. The keepers disappeared. The relays went offline.

The Commander been found barely alive in the hours after the war ended. At the centre of the Citadel’s dial. Admiral Anderson and another human with him, both dead. Shepard remained in a coma, but his doctor, Miranda Lawson, whom he’d met at the Commander's apartment only weeks ago, was confident she’d get him back. 

Weeks felt more like years.

“Sir,” one of his officers brought him out of his thoughts. He nodded, making a small noise of acknowledgement. “It’s nearly the end of shift, are you ready for your relief?”

His golden eyes widened slightly in surprise, ‘ _ how long have I been standing here?’ _ He asked himself. 

“Yes, Lieutenant. I’ll be in my ready room.” Without waiting for an answer, he finally released the console and left the bridge, heading for his office at the back of the deck.

Once Adrien was alone, and the lock red, he let his shoulders drop. He hadn’t been expecting it to be so hard to leave Earth. Although, he hadn’t expected a month with no word on his mate. At least if he knew… he could mourn. ‘ _ And wasn’t that a terrible thought?’ _ He scoffed at his own negativity. He knew his partner was strong. He just had to believe that he would come back to him. He’d promised, as much as any soldier could in his situation.

As it was, there was nothing to be done beyond what they already had. Only so many resources could be applied towards finding some sign of the  _ Normandy. _ Not only was every major system damaged, seemingly beyond reasonable expectation of repair, but there were Reaper corpses to destroy, relays to activate, food to scavenge before they starved to death.

All the plans that he and his Advisor had worked through had come into action. Changes were accommodated for, resources pooled and allocated appropriately. Leaders assigned. Alliances made stronger. The krogan controlled. What had originally been a way for he and Garrus to unwind, think about life after the war, had become exactly what they’d needed, a plan for what happens next. They had survived, won against the Reapers. They were alive.

It was time to ensure they stayed that way.

Adrien sat down at his desk, picking up a datapad for a moment, only to toss it down at the desk. His eyes were unfocused, too long of a day it seemed. 

“Get it together, Victus.” he mumbled aloud with his eyes shut and a hand on his crest in attempts to stifle his growing headache. 

Picking up the datapad again, he read the first few lines. His smile was sad, his mind had automatically begun to read it in his partner’s voice. It was an old report, from one of their post war planning discussions over vidcom. Something about dealing with the isolationists on Digeris before they became a problem. Bringing the colony back under Palaven, a united front would be stronger in the coming years of recovery. He agreed. 

He always agreed. 

A small laugh was all the Primarch had energy left for. Dropping back in his chair to stare blankly at the ceiling. “Where are you?” he asked the empty room. 

It didn’t answer. 

+-+-+-+

“Shepard,” Garrus greeted as he met up with the Commander at their shuttle. His shoulders a tight line, face forced to calm. “So I guess this is…”

“Just like old times?” Shepard interrupted, a cocky smile reassuring.

“Huh. Eh. Hm,” Garrus half laughed before drifting off in uneasy mumbles. “Might be the last chance we get to say that.” 

“Think we’re gonna lose?”

“No,” he replied firmly, shaking the doubt from his mind. They were going to do this. They would win. “I think we’re about to kick the Reapers back into whatever black hole they crawled out of. Then we’re going to retire somewhere warm and tropical and live off the royalties from the vids.” 

Shepard laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “I wouldn’t know what to do with all my time. And neither would you,” he pointed out.

Shrugging, Garrus suggested. “I seem to remember you mentioning little blue babies?”

“Ha. We haven’t won yet,” the human couldn’t stop his smile. He took a deep breath, looking past Garrus to where Liara was adjusting her armor. “Been a long haul my friend. I think I’m done saving the galaxy after this one.”

Humming in agreement, the turian nodded. “James told me there’s an old saying here on Earth: ‘May you be in Heaven half an hour before the devil knows you’re dead.’ Not sure if turian heaven is that same as yours, but if this thing goes sideways and we both end up there… meet me at the bar. I’m buying.”

“Shepard and Vakarian, storming heaven…” the Commander’s smile was sad, but the sentiment carried weight. “I guess there are worse ways this could end.”

“But maybe some other day, eh?” Garrus replied, returning the clasped hand to the shorter male’s shoulder. “And Shepard… Forgive the insubordination, but this old friend has an order for you… Go out there and give them hell, you were born to do this.” 

“Let’s do this, Garrus.” He paused, mouth a grim line. “And... if I’m up there in that bar and you’re not? I’ll be looking down. I’ll always have your back.”

That was all they had time for, Liara joined them as they climbed into the shuttle. Taking their seats for the final run. It was time to end this war, or go down in a blaze of glory. Whatever it took. 

+-+-+-+

Hours passed, too quickly. Exhaustion settling in with mild and moderate injuries, nothing so bad as to stop the small team, but enough to hurt. Enough to slow them. Scratches from a banshee, burns from getting too close to the ever growing fires. Bleeding gouges from exploding shrapnel. A few fractures from the numerous brutes. 

They made it through the hordes, and now they just needed to make it to the beam. Shepard out in front of them began the sprint, Garrus following closely behind. His long legs covering the space with ease. The human may have had more stamina, but the turian could keep up with him for the kilometer or so run. 

Liara unfortunately, was not quite so lucky. She didn’t have the long leggedness of a turian, nor the speed of the augmented human. The asari began to fall behind, so when Garrus slowed for her to catch up the mistake was made. Harbinger’s beam came down not ten metres in front of the Commander, throwing a Mako into the air. The human skidded underneath it, his biotics shielding him from the worst of the heat and damage. 

As Garrus and Liara dodged the first and kept running, separated from Shepard by a fair margin now. A second tank was thrown into the air. Crashing down on its nose just in front of them, the pair came to a screeching halt and threw themselves to the side as it toppled. The Mako exploded as the roof and main turret impacted the ground. The turian, who did his best to shield his more lightly armored teammate from the fire, caught the worst of the shrapnel, but not enough. 

Her scream caught Shepard’s attention.

In seconds the Commander was back the hundred or so metres he’d been ahead of them. Grabbing Liara’s arm and pulling her from the ground to cover. Garrus limped behind them, falling to the ground beside Shepard, the world spinning.

“ _ Normandy _ , do you copy? I need an evac RIGHT NOW!” he yelled into his com.

It wasn’t more that a few seconds before their pilot came back. Garrus couldn’t hear the words, his eyes were unfocused and some part of his brain supplied the word  _ concussion _ . A bad one. He watched as the human applied medigel to the worst of his love’s burns, mouth to her forehead as they spoke in hushed tones.

He didn’t know how long it was between the Commander’s callout and the  _ Normandy’s _ appearance. But the ship was here, in the middle of an active battle, for evacuation. “Come on!” Shepard shouted, taking Liara’s arm over his shoulder. Garrus forced himself up to take the other, the males mostly carrying the asari to the ship. Once they were halfway up the ramp, Shepard slid out from under his mate’s arm. “Take her!” 

“What? Shepard, no!” Liara choked out, reaching for him. Garrus held onto her tightly.

“You’ve got to get out of here!” the human biotic yelled back. Eyes on the turian even as Liara cried out for him. “Don’t argue with me! You’ve got to take her. Please.” 

“You’re not leaving me!”

He took a step forwards, capturing her cheek in his hand. “No matter what happens- you mean everything to me, Liara. You always will.”

“Shepard I-” She paused, eyes locked onto her partner’s. “I am yours.”

Pulling back, he looked to his best friend. “Take care of her.”

He gave a sharp nod, and with that Shepard was gone.

+-+-+

The medical bay was a disaster, Liara had to be sedated so that she’d stay put. Her screams for Shepard echoing off the walls. The fact Garrus wore heavy armor was the only thing that saved him from grievous harm as she lashed out. The doctor caught an angry swipe of her nails before she managed to stick her with the needle.

The silence that came after was painful.

Vakarian left the doctor to work, Javik standing guard in case Liara woke sooner than anticipated. He was the only other ground team member on board and the asari’s burns needed immediate care so that they didn’t become any more life threatening than they already were. He made for the command deck, medigel from his suit’s automated dispensers keeping him upright. Although the ringing in his ears had yet to stop.

A hand clenched the back of the pilot’s chair. Half in support of Joker, half to remain standing. The pilot’s hands were flying across the controls. Faster than he’d ever seen the man move. 

“ _ All Fleets, the Crucible is armed. Disengage and head to the rendezvous point _ .” Admiral Hackett’s voice came over the speakers, sounding relieved. “ _ I repeat, disengage and get the hell out of here _ .”

“Joker listen, we have to go.”

“Damn it.” He clenched his fist, jaw clenching so hard that Garrus could see it. “We can’t just leave him! I can’t do that again!”

His voice was soft when he replied, all the anger gone. “It’s what he wanted, Jeff. He wanted Liara to be safe. We have to go. Now.” 

And so they ran. Nearly back to the rendezvous point when something went wrong, the red beam from the Crucible seemed to chase them. Joker headed for the relay, calling out to EDI to make a calculation. “It doesn’t matter where! Just get us out of here!”

“Relay jump engaged, destinatio…” EDI began from the copilot’s chair, but never finished. Just as suddenly as the beam impacted them her body slumped into the chair. Her ever present visor winked out and leaving her unmoving. 

Garrus screamed, his left hand moving to his right shoulder. He backed up a few paces on unsteady legs, back impacting the wall hard as he slid down it. 

“EDI, check on Garrus.” Joker called out, risking a glance over at her. “What the… what the fuck! EDI no!” He growled in frustration, eyes forced back to the screens as he forced a landing onto the nearest M class planet, the ship’s systems going haywire. It all happened within a matter of minutes. The AI unmoving and the turian barely holding in a second screech.

“All hands! BRACE FOR IMPACT!” the pilot yelled into the ship wide com. Hoping he’d made the command soon enough, and quickly fastening his own harness.

Anyone not strapped down would have been knocked around a fair amount in the rocky landing. The inertial dampeners were only working at half strength. 

The pilot forced himself up from the chair, thankful he’d taken the time to put on his harness before the impact. Leaving him with only a cracked rib or two, not a whole host of broken bones. He checked on the AI, the unit was shut down. He’d have to check the AI core to figure out more. Instead he turned to the crew member he could help.

“Mmy… mmy armm… ah… fuck. Damn it. I can’not… nhg… mmove it.” Garrus was stammering, words slurred

“Garrus, look at me,” he said as he carefully knelt down in front of the turian. Considering how often he himself broke, medical courses had been his minor field of study in the flight academy. Blood he couldn’t handle, but broken bones? They were his specialty. “Breathe.” 

He complied, and Joker carefully reached out his hand and put it into the turian’s. “Squeeze my fingers.” Nothing happened.  _ Shit, this wasn’t a broken arm _ . “Ok, don’t panic. Let’s get you down to Chakwas, alright?”

“Yeah…” he replied, carefully pushing himself up with a heavy reliance on the wall. “Thissss issss fucked.” He stopped, eyes widening. “Mm I ssslurring?” The pilot’s face gave it away and he swore again. 

Jeff called out for one of the other crewmembers, needing someone to support the turian as he couldn’t. “It’s your mandible, G. It isn’t moving like your left one is.” Something clicked for the pilot as he looked back at EDI’s unmoving form. “It’s the Reaper tech. Your cybernetics, EDI. It’s all shut down. Shepard did it.”

Garrus hummed in agreement, that at least sounded normal. “Ssship’sss full of it. Mm too.” He groaned as they moved towards the lift, adrenalin not enough anymore, and the two crewmembers at his sides carefully supported the near seven foot tall turian with as much care as they could, considering he was still fully armored and weighing around 100 kilos to begin with.

Joker gave one last look back at the cockpit before following Garrus. There had to be a way to reactivate EDI, the AI core might hold some answers that her lifeless form did not. He had to hope. They were going to need her to get out of this mess.

+-+-+

All told, Liara’s injuries weren’t as bad as originally feared, not when she had Doctor Karin Chakwas to take care of her. The asari had needed the immediate evacuation, but 50 000 units of platinum were apparently well spent on the ship’s dermal regenerator. The good doctor was able to heal her skin beautifully, residual pain would be an issue for a few days, otherwise she was doing quite well. The broken bones in her leg had been set so that traditional healing could take place, sped by modern medical advances. 

Garrus’ case was a little different, his concussion was dealt with in short order. And Karin encouraged him to avoid further head trauma as always. His armor had saved him from the burns his asari teammate had taken, which was fortunate as the dermal regenerator needed skin to work. Hide and plate just didn’t react the same way, explaining why the machine hadn’t been used on his face and shoulder over the past year.

The damaged plating on his back was medi-gelled and left to heal on their own, nothing more could be done for it. The bruising and cracked plate would heal with time and assistance where Chakwas could provide it, in the form of anti-inflammatories and medigel. She wasn’t, however, able to fix his cybernetics whatsoever. The right arm and mandible were useless, the former she gave him a sling for and there was nothing to be done for the latter.

Joker was correct in his assumption that everything with Reaper tech was no longer working. Half of the ship’s systems had been tied into EDI, and her usually bright light was dimmed to embers in the AI core. She was offline. But Jeff refused to give up on her. Even if they needed to detangle her from the ship’s systems to get back in orbit, he wouldn’t give up hope that, with Tali’s help, she could be reactivated.

Stores were low, but nothing standard rationing couldn’t handle for the levo based crew. And thankfully it was a levo world, so they’d sent the remaining marines and Javik on a few scouting missions to supplement stores and fluids. Their dextro based companion however, wasn’t quite so lucky. There was enough to keep him alive, but no more than that. He was on starvation rations from day one of the crash.

The only bright spot of Tali being back with the Flotilla during the final battle was that she wasn’t here to starve as well. Had she been present? They would have starved to death together within a month or so. As it was, Garrus was weak and uncomfortable as time wore on. Levo rations held no nutritional value for him, empty calories that, unfortunately, caused more intestinal distress than they cured. When he got desperate a week and a half in, he’d tried something bland and dense, called oatmeal, to try and fill the void in his stomach. It hadn’t gone well.

Within the first week they managed to get half the ship back in working order, navigation and weapons. Engines would be next in the second week, communications coming online last to empty airways. They found themselves on a planet not too far from the Sol system, just under three weeks away at FTL speeds. The relay wasn’t in working order.

“Ready?” The pilot asked from his chair, hands settling in over the controls as he set them up for takeoff, the engines spooled. He glanced over to Traynor on his right, in the copilot’s chair who nodded to him. Turning, he caught Garrus’ eye.

“Engage,” the turian commanded, voice even on the word. He’d learned to avoid words with the equivalent of m and s sounds, the ones he slurred the worst. 

“Aye, aye boss.” 

Huffing a laugh, Garrus shook his head. Joker’s sarcasm helping him get through the days as much as his own dry humor was helping the pilot through his own. It was time to go home. If home still existed, that is.

+-+-+-+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if the slurring is too difficult to understand, I figure translators would mostly be converting sounds to words for turians. Their vocal chords so different from human ones that words are made in an entirely different way. M and S sounds are the effected ones!


	15. Starvation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war's been over for weeks, it's time for the Primarch and his people to return to Palaven. Meanwhile, the Normandy crew hits a few snags on the way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay on this one. Took me a while to be happy with this chapter!
> 
> Reminder, Garrus' mandible still isn't working quite right. Read his dialogue as though it's slurred please, especially on the s and m sounds.

A deep breath steeled the turian Primarch as his world was about to come into view. The trip from Earth had been uneventful, which should have been welcome. It wasn’t. He needed something to fight, but there was nothing left. Just broken worlds, broken people and spirits. It was his job to fix it, to bring them back together.

_ ‘How am I supposed to do that, when I’m barely holding myself together?’ _ He asked himself as he opened his eyes. Taking in the ruined, fire burned landscape that could been seen from space.

If Earth had been in ruins? Then Palaven wasn’t much better off. Every major city was half flattened, fires still raged through forests, ash and debris clouded the atmosphere. It would take a lifetime to correct for the past half year. Adrien supposed he should be happy he had a life left to use for it.

“General,” he caught the attention of his second in command. “I will be on the first shuttle to rendezvous with Palaven leadership and assume control planetside. You will remain here to coordinate the fleets as per contingency Bravo-Three. Am I understood?”

“Sir, yes, sir.” the female turian replied without delay. She immediately brought out her datapad and flicked the screen to the appropriate checklist, section Bravo was the second phase of post-war activities, part three being arrival on Palaven. 

Half of his and Garrus’ plans had been taken directly from the Hierarchy archives, adjusted for Reapers being the instigating force instead of the krogan. Although, if Victus were honest with himself, they might need additional krogan contingencies as well. In general they were a stupid species, but eventually they’d figure out their rutting wasn’t bringing out more children than it had before the war.

“You have the deck, General.” He used the words to dismiss himself, turning and heading for the lift to the dreadnought’s shuttlebay. The  _ Manea _ was an enormous ship, the flagship of his fleet, and the largest turian ship left flying after the war. The elevator ride was long, and he was thankful when no one dared join him. He crossed the space from his dais to the elevator in seven long steps, arms held at ease parade rest while he waited for the doors to close.

When he was alone, he let the stance falter slightly. Shoulders dropping under the emotional weight of Garrus’ request to take care of himself, so that in turn he take care of their people. It was the only reason he slept a minimal four hours a night, ate twice a day. He couldn’t let his people see him weak. He needed to remain strong for them, thus he hid his sorrow.

No one even knew about their relationship.

Left alone long enough, he drifted back to think of his son and his first mate, who’d always hold a special place in his heart. It wasn’t wrong to want to love again, twenty-eight years after her passing. To give himself someone to live for after he’d lost his son to the war and his own reluctance to trust.

He gave that love to Garrus. Maybe he shouldn’t have. Maybe it had been a mistake, knowing that he was unlikely to survive the war being Commander Shepard’s right hand man. But, he couldn't bring himself to regret it. Despite the pain. He’d given the younger turian a reason to live as well, someone to hold and love. 

Now, he had a purpose. His mate’s last wish that he took care of their people.

+-+-+-+

Stepping out onto the ramp, leading down to the remains of Cipritine’s main spaceport, was surreal. There had originally been a roof over it, now only sky could be seen. Grey and murky, instead of the bright silver blue hues he’d grown up under. Victus didn’t let himself pause more than a few moments on the ramp, instead finding his command voice. It boomed across the spaceport, capturing the attention of his people without need for any electronic enhancement. A natural turian ability, honed from years of practice.

He addressed his people. Reminded them what they had done, and let them know that the fleets had returned home. They cheered and he let them. Knowing his words would carry throughout the city and bolster their resolve.

According to the documentation he’d been given, when ground efforts were failing the Reapers had taken to orbital bombardment. Wanting to defeat the turians at any cost, even if it meant less souls could be transformed into their abominations. The krogan had helped them push back, regaining ground and finishing evacuations.

Now, the evacuated turians were being sent home. Even those that were unfit for war were able to help with recovery. There were no civilians among turians. Everyone held a rank and a place in the Hierarchy, even children. A species bred for war, mandatory service and rank structure instilled in them from birth. It ensured they were leaps ahead of the other species.

It also meant they’d been hit harder by the Reapers. Though, it had saved them the fate of the batarians. The four-eyed species was nearly extinct, their homeworld all but destroyed in the initial hit. Their largest colony sacrificed to the Alpha-Relay explosion, delaying the Reapers. Those that remained still called for Commander Shepard’s blood, but no one was willing to listen to them anymore.

The coming days gave way to hard work, not physical for Victus, instead they were just mentally exhausting. He’d taken control of planetary affairs, coordinating the recovery efforts as well as he was expected to in the wake of such a disaster. Politics had always been frustrating for the military minded turian, used to a rank structure where he had equals to confer with and high-ups to defer to. He was the Command now. There was no higher authority, no one on his level. 

He wished for Garrus all the more in those days, not as his mate, but as his Advisor. He’d become dependant on the younger turian’s, surprisingly, even-keeled words. His unconventional thoughts on matters; the tactics from someone who’d spent time working with and learning from other species. Between C-Sec and the  _ Normandy _ and all the time in between, the younger turian had a more rounded grasp on the galaxy than the singularly minded ex-General. Even if he was considered a bit of an odd sock among his own people, Victus still had only Hierarchy experience.

The reports and plans they’d worked through in the final days of the war had been some of the valuable pieces of paperwork the Primarch owned. They connected him to Vakarian. They were a bridge for his people to use from war to peacetime. 

+-+-+-+

News came for him mid meeting. 

The  _ Normandy _ had surfaced. Some forty days since the final push.  _ Forty-one days, four hours and thirty seven minutes since the beam _ , Adrien’s mind helpfully supplied as he glanced at his omnitool. He cut the meeting short, much to the surprise of the Generals and lower Primarchs on vidcom from the colonies. 

Victus walked quickly to his office, leaving the conference room far behind. His assistant, a kind young Lieutenant named Rebas, needed to jog to keep up with the much taller Primarch. He’d been given orders to only interrupt for certain circumstances, the  _ Normandy _ being the only non-standard request. They’d barely managed to get behind closed doors before Adrien spun on the younger turian. “Report, Lieutenant.”

“Sir, news came in just a few minutes ago through the media channels. The human’s flagship was found limping back into Alliance space at 0200 hours this morning, Citadel Standard time.”

“What time is that here?” he asked, quickly doing the math in his own head.

Typing it into his omnitool, the Lieutenant replied. “Last night, approximately 2600, sir.” Adrien swore and hurried to his desk, pulling up his personal console and checking the messages. There were none he hadn’t already seen that looked important. “Primarch Victus?” Rebas asked tentatively, not having seen the older turian distraught in the weeks he’d been assigned to him. “Is there something I can do?”

Humming an aggravated replied, Adrien spoke with clipped words. “Get Admiral Hackett on the QEC.”

“Yessir!”

More slowly he combed the messages, opening anything that didn’t look like it was from one of his Generals. Anything marked from Alliance space he skimmed. Nothing had information about the  _ Normandy _ . He vocalised his frustration and threw a spare datapad at the far wall, thankful his office was mostly soundproofed as it impacted and shattered. 

It was a matter of minutes before Rebas came back, he eyed the broken datapad but said nothing. “Admiral Hackett is on the line, sir.”

Victus was on his feet and past the Lieutenant without a reply. Too keyed up to trust his voice. The communications room had only been restored over past two days, this was the Primarch’s first call on it. The door closed behind him and with a steadying breath, he stepped onto the platform. “Admiral,” he greeted.

“Primarch,” the human nodded in return. “I assume this isn’t a social call?”

He barely managed to hold in his growl at the lighthearted tone the other military leader was using. Victus had asked to be informed of news on the  _ Normandy _ , he had instead found out through news channels _. _ “I’ve been told Commander Shepard’s ship has been found. Is there any merit?”

The human’s easy smile faltered. “There is, it was found last night.”

“And?”

“Your asset has been sent to hospital on the Citadel, I don’t have anything further than that. We were waiting until we had something more,” the human’s expression fell. “I apologize for not sending word sooner, the last I heard he was in critical condition and headed for surgery.”

Adrien’s jaw clenched so hard he bled his gums, his hands gripped the railing of the QEC’s platform hard enough for the metal to complain beneath his hands. His face showed no outward sign of panic that could be seen over the shaky holograms. “When will you know more?”

“Within a few hours I expect. I’ll have a report on the Advisor’s condition sent and you’ll be updated as soon as we know more.” He had the decency to look ashamed of his failure to provide the information sooner. “For what it’s worth? The rest of the crew is alive and well. No casualties.”

A laugh escaped him, unbidden. “While that is excellent news? I care more for word on MY Advisor,” he emphasised his possession over the turian in question. Angry with no outlet. 

“I understand that, Primarch. We’ll be in touch,” Hackett was being understandably dismissive, there were additional matters the man had to attend to. It didn’t change the turian’s anger. 

Without replying, Adrien cut the call. Stuck in limbo he stared straight ahead, unmoving. They’d found his mate. His mate was injured or ill. And here he was, millions upon millions of kilometers away. Unable to do a thing about it. He could have screamed for all the good it would do. 

After taking the time he needed to reassemble himself, he moved to the door. His assistant was waiting outside, a datapad in his outstretched hand. “From the Admiral, sir.”

“Cancel my meetings for this afternoon and find Castis Vakarian. I’ll be in my office.”

+-+-+-

Holed up in the makeshift visiting diplomat’s quarters, more commonly known as life support, Garrus curled onto his left side. His stomach was empty, as it had been for the past thirty nine days. A single ration bar, or less, a day and all the kava and tisane he could drink, just wasn’t doing it for him. Silently he cursed himself for all those missed meals over the past few weeks, er… months?

The turian sighed. His left arm curled protectively over his aching stomach as it growled yet again, the organ still not giving up. Much to the sniper’s misery. His right arm was still in a sling, useless and atrophying more than the rest of him. Basic stretches in the early days had kept him mobile and saved some of his muscle tone, now his pitifully small fat stores were gone. Not that an average turian carried much to begin with, he’d just been on the low end of normal.

There had been twelve days of food for he and Tali onboard, or twenty days worth for him alone, now that Tali was gone. Quarians had much different caloric requirements than turians. They’d traded their last crate of rations for some medical supplies when they’d last been on the Citadel. There had been no need for more than a week, considering they’d been planning on disembarking on Earth. Now the stupidity of it, of succumbing to starvation, just pissed him off. 

Shutting his eyes tightly, he fought off the next wave of nausea. Hating how his body betrayed him. His back hurt, without proper fuel it hadn’t healed yet. All the medigel in the world couldn’t help him if his body refused to use it. His plates were dull, flaking in places, he must have looked as much a mess as he felt.

“Ssspirits,” he groaned, voice slurring without proper use of his mandible. A deep breath in stabilized the dizzy spell. His nose pressed into the pillow that still vaguely smelled of Adrien. It was probably just his mind supplying the scent now, regardless, it helped. 

A knock at the door startled him, it was telling of his condition that he jumped. He was a soldier, damn it, he needed to get a grip on himself. “Com’in,” he mumbled, finally releasing the pillow.

“Garrus?” he heard Liara ask from the door as she stepped in. Her paces were slow and measured, just a hint of a limp left from the break. “I’ve got your ration, you hadn’t been out for it yet. It’s an IV nutrient day too.”

He sighed, pushing himself up to carefully lean against the back wall. “How’sss crew?” Reaching out a hand, he took the offered bar and opened it mechanically, taking a large bite before putting it down, hand shaking.

Liara politely ignored it. “They’re well. Copeland is arranging a movie night, tonight in the mess hall if you’re interested?” She attached the bag to a hook he’d installed above the bed, clipping the line into place with as much care as she could muster. He hummed noncommittally, deliberately picking up the bar and taking another bite, smaller this time. Putting it back down further away, chewing slowly, reluctant to swallow. 

“No. Mm’ tired.”

“Hm,” the Shadow Broker hummed noncommittally. “Maybe you’d be willing to help Javik with his class tomorrow then? He said Whitmore is improving. She didn’t miss a target once yesterday,” she tried, willing to try almost anything to get him out of this room. He hadn’t left it for more than a handful of minutes in the past three days. When he shook his head minutely, she sighed. “Garrus, please.”

His shoulders dropped and a stared a hole in the floor, eyes listless. “Can’t,” he offered eventually.

“Even with your left hand you’re still a better shot than the rest of us, Garrus.”

“Sssaid, can’t,” the sniper looked up from the floor with a mild glare. It wasn’t really directed at her, more himself she noticed as he lifted his hand up, leaving it in the space between them to demonstrate why not. The tremors were getting worse. 

Stepping forward, the asari took her friend’s hand in her own pale blue one. It was cold. “Have you told Karin?” He shook his head. “Damn it. EDI can…” she stopped mid sentence, remembering that the AI was no longer functioning.

Pulling his hand back, he slurred. “S’fine. Normmal sssymmpotmm.” His words sounded ridiculous, but instead of finding it funny? It just worried her more. “Noth’in to do ‘bout it.”

“You’re dropping more sounds,” she replied. The realisation on her face grim. Liara had been over the symptoms to watch for with the doctor, knowing he’d be trying his best to downplay his condition, as he always did. “How long has that been happening?”

“What?” he asked, deliberate in his pronunciation, only a hint of something wrong.

“I asked you how long you’ve been dropping words. I hadn’t noticed it until now, but you’re not just slurring. Entire words are gone.” She clicked a few keys on her omnitool, sending him a message. “Read that out loud for me.”

“Fuck, no.” She glared at him, and with a sigh he pulled up the text. “Very little… known ‘bout… Prothean race; … namme ‘n’ location of their… hasss bin lossst..”

She watched him, knowing the words off by heart.  _ Very little is known about the origins of the Prothean race; even the name and location of their homeworld has been lost to history. _ His sentences had made enough sense, but she knew the words too well to be thrown. “We’re going to see Karin. Now.”

Reaching for him, she unclipped the IV line from the port Chakwas had installed in his arm. The doctor hadn’t seen a reason why not to give him the semi-permanent line, it was better than sticking him with a needle multiple times a week. 

The turian rumbled in discomfort as he forced himself to his feet, unsteady on his legs. He staggered, reaching for the wall and swearing under his breath. Liara caught him, his near seven feet of height dwarfing the much shorter asari. For a half second she was thankful he wasn’t as heavy as she remembered before banishing that thought, he’d been wasting away for weeks, of course he wasn’t as heavy as she remembered.  

His mumbled thanks and acceptance of her help were almost as disconcerting as the tremors. 

They were halfway down the hallway before Garrus faltered again, Liara had to use her biotics to stabilize them and keep from falling over. “Liara, can’not focuss.” She looked up to see him blinking and shaking his head, trying to clear his vision. 

She pulled him along, moving with renewed expedience. Starvation was killing her friend, and there was nothing she could do about it. Traynor was standing in the kitchen when they stumbled in, immediately she ran over to help. Grabbing the door for them and running off to get the doctor. By the time Garrus was settled onto one of the beds Karin had appeared.

“Liara, what happened?” she asked, stress laced in her tone as she began taking readings. The asari quickly ran through the past few minutes, explaining the loss of cognition, his difficulty focusing. “Garrus, Look at me,” Karin encouraged as she shone a light in his eyes. He groaned, half asleep already.

She stepped back, leaving him to rest. Motioning for the biotic to follow her as she moved to the other end of the room. “What’s wrong with him?” Liara’s voice wavered, not hiding her upset very well.

Karin sighed, speaking quietly as she explained. “He’s starving. His body is shutting down, despite the nutrient and hydration IV’s we’ve been giving, the caloric deficit is killing him.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, the asari tried to make sense of it. “I thought those bars were supposed to be enough for a day?”

“For a few days, maybe. Not for a month, he needs triple what he’s been getting. Asari and humans have been known to last for months through starvation, we carry additional fat stores that turians just don’t have. Not to mention, he’s not exactly a small turian,” she looked across the room, where her patient had fallen asleep. Exhaustion clawing into him worse than the rest of the crew. 

“We’re only a day or two out from Sol, isn’t there something we can do? He can’t just die,” her voice was barely above a whisper, eyes damp with unshed tears. “Shepard would never forgive himself if Garrus died because of this. Because we didn’t stock enough food.”

The doctor put a comforting hand onto the asari’s shoulder. “We’ve got one option left. I can put him into a coma. It’ll reduce his energy expenditure to the bare minimum. Can you go get the rest of his ration bars? I’ll get him to finish them before I put him out. Hopefully it’ll be enough.”

“It has to be.”

+-+-+-+

Finding Castis was short work for the Lieutenant. He was currently working as a security consultant for the Hierarchy, helping to reestablish their policing force since arriving back on Palaven in the first wave. He, along with his daughter, had been found within a few days of the war finishing. 

Victus had sought them out. 

The Primarch couldn’t find his mate, but he could find his family and keep them relatively safe. They had not been aware of his involvement with Garrus and he intended to keep it that way, however difficult it was to hide his grief in their presence. Garrus was the very image of his father, the same ice-blue eyes and pale plates. He and Solana looked less alike, but were obviously related. Her colouring was more similar to their mother’s while her eyes matched the males in her family, she was taller than average, but built like a feather instead of the tank her brother resembled.

Adrien was sitting at his desk, re-reading the same paragraph on his monitor for the fourth time when he was interrupted by a knock at the door. “Come,” he called out, tone as steady as he could make it.

“Primarch Victus,” Castis greeted as he stepped inside. The door closed behind him, leaving them alone. “I was told you needed to see me?”

A hand gestured to the open chair between them. “I have news,” he replied, waiting for the older turian to take a seat. Once he was seated, Victus held out the datapad he’d been given. Not knowing if he’d be able to make it through speaking without betraying his feelings. “They found the  _ Normandy _ .” was the explanation he gave. 

The pad was snatched from his hand, a rumble of apology given for the neediness, which Adrien brushed off. “This is all we know?” the father asked when he was finished with the datapad. His shoulders knotted in a tight line, just like Garrus’ did.

“It is. I’ve been told he’ll be out of surgery soon. We should know more when that happens.”

Castis nodded, taking a breath before giving a reply appropriate for the Primarch of Palaven. “I understand. Thank you for taking the time Primarch, I’m sure you have more important matter than telling a father his son is alive.”

“No!” he half shouted back. Too quick.  _ Needy _ .

“Victus?” Vakarian asked dropping the formality of his title, eyes searching the Primarch’s. “Is… is there something you aren’t tell me?” Hesitation didn’t sit well on the older turian.

Adrien was caught. He leaned back in his chair, a sigh stuck in his throat as his hand moved to his crest to stem the coming headache, he wasn’t used to being so careless. Love made him stupid. “I care about your son, Castis. I can’t go to the Citadel. You can. And should. I...” he trailed off.

“I know that look,” Vakarian said once he’d quieted. “I won’t ask you to elaborate, but I think I understand.”

Not trusting his voice, Adrien only nodded. “I’ll arrange transport and have your duties covered.”

The retired detective nodded sharply, rising from the chair. “Adrien?” he said to call the younger male’s attention. When he looked up, he continued. “I’ll bring him home.”

+-+-+-+

Coming home hadn’t been a hero’s welcome.

The  _ Normandy _ was intercepted almost immediately upon coming into Alliance space. Joker had them running silent until they’d crossed the border and received positive confirmation of Alliance transponders. The collective sigh of relief was felt ship wide, without EDI and Garrus they were left with Javik on the thanix cannon. He was a decent shot, but no one could out gun the other two. 

Interrogated over coms and subsequently led to a docking port on the Citadel, things were tense. C-Sec greeted them upon arrival, not relaxing their alert until the new Executor, Garrus’ old partner Chellick, had cleared things up. Liara was thankful she’d met the recently promoted detective before, it had helped with corroborating their story without bringing him down to the medical bay to see Garrus for himself.

Said turian was whisked off the the hospital in short order. The asari and Doctor Chakwas at his side, both determined to help however they could. Joker and the Chief Engineer, Adams, stayed with the ship to liaise with Alliance Command. Upon arrival at the hospital, Garrus was taken into intensive care with Karin hot on the doctor’s heels, bringing them up to speed on his condition. 

Liara was left at the doors. 

Unable to help, she would just get in their way. With a small sigh, she brought up her omnitool and dropped into an empty chair in the waiting room. The device had been going off constantly since the asari had stepped foot onto the station. Alone now, there was time to check it. Personal messages first, Broker work would come later and was linked to a separate address. She was surprised to see she had almost a hundred messages, the sender of thirty of them?  _ Shepard _ .

Breath caught in her throat as Liara pulled up the first one. And then another. And another. They were all from John. He was alive. 

She was on her feet and pacing in seconds. Unable to sit still. Internal panic rising at the lack of direction, quick as she could skimming messages for a location. Anything that would tell her where her partner was. Not finding an answer quick enough she fired off a message to him and Miranda, who’d sent most of the other messages. Then she was into her network, which looked to be somewhat intact after her absence. Probably Feron’s doing, she supposed. 

A reply came in after a few minutes, barely halfway through the message she started running. Shepard was here. He was in the hospital, just three floors away. The stairs had never been taken quicker, unable to contain her energy and wait inside an elevator box she ran up them. Dodging staff and patients alike in the next few hallways until skidding to a halt at the door where the human woman was waiting for her.

“Miranda!” she called out. 

The normally stoic agent’s mouth broke into a smile. “Liara, welcome home.” She held out a hand to stop her from rushing into the hospital room. “He’s sleeping, take a moment. It’s going to be a bit of a shock when you go in there.”

“Why?” the asari asked tentatively, hands stopping just before they touched the handle. A hand landed on her shoulder and she tried to relax at the comforting gesture. 

Never one to sugar coat things, Miranda dropped into an explanation. “His cybernetics stopped working when the Crucible fired thus his healing was stunted. It took the Alliance hours to find him, by the time they did many of his injuries had become grievous. Major burns, a gunshot wound to his abdomen, a nasty infection took a fair amount of muscle from his leg, he was in a coma for three weeks. Shepard will recover, but it’ll take a lot longer than it would have before the war.”

“That’s all that matters,” Liara told her with conviction. “He’s alive.” A soft smile and a nod were all that Miranda offered her before moving to the side and allowing the asari to pass her. The nob was half turned before she stopped. “Wait. Did you get his cybernetics back online?”

“Yes, but…”

Liara was suddenly all urgency again, interrupting her. “Garrus. You installed his too, right?” At Miranda’s nod she continued. “He’s… his cybernetics malfunctioned as well, hasn’t been able to use his arm or mandible since we were stranded. He’s in intensive care, I should take you to him. He’s in a bad way.”

“No, stay with Shepard. I’ll find Garrus.”

“Miranda…”

She just shook her head and turned to leave. “Let me do what I do best. Tell the Commander I’ll have to reschedule his rehab session.” And with that she was gone. Liara was alone at the door, only the C-Sec guards, a tasteful distance away, in the hall with her.

Steeling herself, she opened the door and stepped inside. As the door slid closed behind her, she gazed upon her lost lover. The room brightly lit, light streaming in from the Citadel’s artificial sun. It was sparsely decorated, she noticed absently. Just medical equipment and a model  _ Normandy _ on the nightstand. Shepard was sleeping deeply, bandaged face and arms visible above the stark white sheet pulled up over his chest.

Her footsteps were quiet as she crossed to the empty chair at his side. The fabric worn with use. At least someone had been with him. For a few quiet minutes she watched in awe as his chest rose and fell, everything outside of the room disappeared. It was just Liara and John. The spell was broken when she reached out and ran a hand over his cheek softly. He stirred, eyes opening in little slits to see what had disturbed him.

“Good morning,” she said quietly. His eyes shot open and he was half sitting before she could stop him. “Easy, John.” she soothed and pressed him back down into the blankets. 

“You’re here…” he said, almost reverently. She smiled and nodded, unable to find her words again as tears started leaking down her cheeks. The human’s hand rose to wipe them away and pull her down for a kiss. 

“I’m here.”

+-+-+-+

Wakefulness came slowly at first, just tugging at the edge of his consciousness. The sound of medical equipment around him, the acrid smell of antiseptic and the cloying sweet of medigel assaulted his nose. The lights were bright through his eyelids, he opened his eyes just enough to see the ceiling above him, stark white and sterile, this wasn’t the Normandy.

Garrus tried to take a breath, but found he couldn’t. Something was in the way. Panic set in all too quickly, his left hand shooting up to try and grab whatever it was that was choking him. A hand was on his before he he get to it, he could hear the heart rate monitor going crazy beside him, and then a familiar voice broke through. He stopped thrashing. 

“Breathe through your nose, son. Relax, you’re safe. Just breathe.” His father was above him, holding his hand. His sub harmonic hum speaking volumes more than his words, calming undertones with relief and just a hint of joy. “That’s it, just like that Garrus. It’s a ventilator and feeding tube. I’ll get a doctor, they’ll take it out.”

As he pulled away the younger turian keened, tightening his grip on his father’s hand ever so slightly. Unable to speak, his sub vocals were all he could use to express his anxiety. 

“I’m not leaving,” Castis told him soothingly, talons closing more firmly around his son’s hand. Instead he hit the nurse call button.

“Please state the nature of the medical emergency,” the computerized voice of the VI said.

“I need a doctor, my son is awake.”

A ping sounded in the hallway. “Please standby, a doctor will be with you shortly.”

They waited in silence, Castis not letting Garrus’ hand go. His chest resonating with calming tones and reassurances for the few minutes it took for the doctor to appear. His anxiety was well founded, he’d fallen asleep on the  _ Normandy _ , not knowing what had become of the rest of the Galaxy. Only to wake up somewhere unknown with medical equipment where it hadn’t been before. Had Castis been the one in the bed, he was sure his reaction would have been similar.

A salarian, presumably the doctor, strode in and without much preamble removed the tubes and passed a cloth to the younger turian as he sat up, coughing wickedly after the removal. The bed was rearranged to allow him to sit easier, reclining back at an incline. He checked his eyes for the correct signal responses from the brain with a bright flashlight, then his bandages, which Garrus didn’t remember needing when he’d fallen asleep on the  _ Normandy _ .

“Good. Good. Now, tell me your name and the current year?”

Coughing once more to clear his throat, he spoke with a voice rough from disuse. “Vakarian. 2187.”

“And last thing you remember?”

He hummed, wracking his brain for what that was. The battle? No. The… Citadel? No. It was after that. The  _ Normandy _ . It had to be on the ship. “Wasss on the  _ Normmandy. _ Doctor Chakwas. Mmedical bay.”

The salarian seemed pleased. “Yes, excellent. Glad to see you awake. Will inform other doctors. Will need additional tests. Rest for now. Will be back later. Advisor,” he nodded once to Garrus then turned to the other turian. “Mr. Vakarian.” And without further he was gone. 

“Dad?” Garrus said after the door closed, barely above a whisper.

Castis turned to him, a smile on his mandibles. “Welcome back, son.” he said as he moved in, resting his temple against the younger turian’s in a gesture of affection. The sniper couldn’t remember the last time he’d done that, it had to of been when he was a child, regardless he relaxed into the embrace. Relieved humming was the only sound in the room, and Garrus pressed his own crest back into his father’s. Their hands still clasped together. “Gave us quite the scare.”

“Mhmm,” he hummed back. Not trusting his words.

“The war is over, the Reapers are gone.” The elder reassured his son, filling him in on the gaps that would be there since his disappearance. “Solana is on Palaven, her leg mended well and she’s been working with what remains of the Blackwatch. The relays are being fixed, just the major hubs are online so far, but it’s improving. I’ve been told the other members from your ship are doing well, Commander Shepard included.”

His sigh of relief at the news of Solana turned to amazement. The human had been in the middle of the fighting, if anyone shouldn’t have made it through… it would have been the Commander. “John mmmade it?” he winced at his slurred words, Castis ignored it.

“Mhm. I was just as surprised as you are, it’s not common knowledge yet. I met him yesterday, and he’s exactly as you told me he would be.” He paused, seeming to collect his thoughts before settling. “I think… I think I understand now. Why you followed him. I may not like Spectres, but I think I can make one exception.” he smiled, just a bit wry and Garrus half chuckled. 

“I do think that there is one other person you should be made aware of,” he began, somewhat ominously. “Although, I admit I’m guessing.”

“You don’t guesss.” 

His father scoffed. “Of course I do. I just follow it up with evidence,” he tapped his own shoulder as though it were a mirror.

Garrus’ head cocked to the side slightly in question, before he tilted his head down to see his bare chest. His hand left his father’s then, moving to cover the bondmark. “Dad…”

Castis shook his head. “The Primarch is alive and well. He wanted to be here, but I suppose that’s what happens when you choose to bond a Primarch in the middle of a war. They tend to put the needs of the many first,” he paused a moment before adding. “As they should.” to ensure his comment wasn’t taken the wrong way. “You never were one for the simple route,” he sighed, looking down at their clasped hands.

The dam broke, grief that had been spiralling out of control inside the sniper’s head finally given an outlet. He was alive. His mate was alive. His family, his friends. The Galaxy was no longer under siege. Relief, pure unadulterated relief set in. Though surprised, the elder Vakarian managed to hold his son through it. Standing to lean over the hospital bed and wrap his arms around the too thin frame on it. Comfort and unconditional loving tones, the ones only a parent could make.

By the time Garrus quieted, his back was sore from the angle. Regardless Castis smiled as he sat back, still holding on to his arm, not ready to let go. “Would you like to talk to him?” he asked, reaching over with his free hand to grab the datapad he’d been reading before Garrus woke up.

Garrus looked down at himself, then at his father. “Mm’ a mmess, dad.”

“I don’t think he’ll care,” he half laughed. Then more seriously added, with a comforting squeeze of his hand. “If I had the chance to talk to your mother again? I wouldn’t.”

When his son nodded, he pulled up the messaging program on the datapad. Sending a priority ping to Victus. “Direct line to him,” he explained as he passed the pad over, helping him balance it on his knees so that he could type. His right arm still useless in its sling. “He’s probably going to take a few minutes to reply initially, usually takes him a few minutes to get away from whatever he’s doing. I didn’t send the emergency notification.”

“Want it to be, but it’ss not an emmergency,” the sniper agreed. “How long wasss I out?”

The retired detective winced, had the younger turian not also been a detective once he might’ve missed it. “Eight days total, six on the Citadel.”

“Mhm,” he hummed in reply. “Wass bad?”

Castis nodded sharply, his voice tight with worry as he explained a little more about the past week. “You almost died twice, you did once. For about a minute. That was before I got here, I was with your sister on Palaven when we got the news you’d been found. The doctors said they had to replace your kidney when you first arrived. You arrested during the surgery.”

Swearing, Garrus closed his eyes and shook his head. When he opened them, he looked down to his bad arm. “And thessse?” he asked, referring to the blue stained bandages all along the limb.

“Your cybernetics were damaged, your friend? I think, Ms. Lawson. She performed surgery the day after that to repair and adjust them. She said you needed to be awake for her to activate them.” He watched his son’s pinched expression. “If you want her to, that is. That look tells me you didn’t enjoy having them put in.”

A quick shake of his head preceded his words. “Need themm. Just going to hurt.”

“Son,” Castis said seriously, placing his hand on his knee. “You’ve had enough pain, you’ve done your service. More than what’s required, or expected. If you’re done, that’s alright.”

Garrus huffed a half laugh, his arm spreading out in a shrug. “Look at mme. Can’t talk. Hide and bone. Ssscars. Need mmy armm.” 

He opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by a ping from the datapad on Garrus’ lap. His jaw snapped shut and the younger turian started at the sound. “We can talk more about it later, I’ll give you a few minutes.” He stood up, placing a comforting hand onto his shoulder. Squeezing lightly before letting go. “I’ll be back.”

The sniper watched him leave, stomach feeling like it had dropped out from under him. A few seconds after the door closed, he heard a second ping. Looking down he read the pad. 

_ {Connection request accepted - Live chat open}  _

Taking a steadying breath he opened up the application. There was a message waiting for him already. Just typed Palavani words on the pad, nothing more. But his breath caught regardless. Adrien was there. 

_ Victus: Castis, unlike you to ping without a message. What’s the situation? _

_ Victus: Is he in surgery again? _

_ {Vakarian is typing...} _

_ Victus: Spirits Castis. Send something.   _

_ Vakarian: Adrien. _

_ Victus: Garrus? _

_ Vakarian: It’s me.  _

_ {Video chat requested - Accept?Y/N} _

Garrus stared at the message. Halfway to pressing the accept command he stopped. More than anything he wanted to see his mate, after weeks for starving and pain and uncertainty. He just wanted the comfort of looking at his partner, if only through a screen. The other half of him wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole alone, hide from everything that happened. Hide from his mate because of the mess he was.

_ Victus: Garrus, please. I need you. _

_ {Video connecting} _

He ached and was nervous as hell, but shakily he pressed the accept key. He couldn’t not. Not after that message. That little bit of unravelling he could see in five words. It took a few seconds for the cameras to engage and the connection to clarify, but when it did he saw a clear picture of his partner. “Adrien.” The word, his name, falling from his mouth. Cracking in the middle, like an adolescent whose second larynx hadn’t quite developed yet.

Victus’ hand reached out towards his own screen, obscuring the camera slightly as he touched it. Running his talons over what would be the picture of his face.  _ “Garrus. Spirits Garrus.” _

Looking away quickly, the younger turian angled his better side towards the camera. The one with less scars. “Sssorry. ‘Mm a mmess,” he mumbled.

_ “No, love. No. Look at me, please. You’re perfect and you’re alive. Spirits, I’ve missed you.”  _ His hand fell back out of the frame.  _ “When did you wake up?” _

Humming he replied. “Half hour? Mm not ssso good with timesss right now. Mmisssed you too.”

“ _ It’s been too long, _ ” Adrien responded, a half smile on his face. “ _ How’re you feeling?” _ at the slight wince on his mate’s face he backpedaled.  _ “Stupid question. Spirits, I feel like a fledgling. Can’t find my words. I’m just happy to see you.” _

“You?” Garrus chuckled, the laugh not sounding quite right. “‘Mmm never good at thisss.”

_ “At what? Coming back alive? Seems to me that’s something you’re wonderful at.” _

The sniper sighed, sitting back a little more relaxed. Humor easier than raw emotion. Humor he could work with. “I seemm to remmemmber telling you the sssame. Glad it worked.”

_ “Not just anyone can order the Primarch around,” _ he laughed, before finishing more seriously,  _ “Just you.” _ Reaching out again, the Primarch touched the monitor. Running his talons over the faint colony paint, trying to memorize it again. Smiling at the thought of his own maybe one day replacing them.  _ “When can you come home?” _

“Hope sssoon, haven’t ssseen the doctor yet. Need to get mmy armmm fixed, mmmandible too. I sssound ridiculousss.” A knock sounded on the door and Garrus looked up, seeing his father in the window. “Dad’ss back. I… I don’t want to go. Mmisss you.”

Humming soothingly back, Adrien touched his crest and pressed it to the screen. A gesture of affection.  _ “I’ll be here later. Message me once you’ve had time to rest.” _ He looked down at his omnitool, checking something before looking back up.  _ “It’s midday here, you’re about four hours ahead. Call when you can, I’ll answer. I love you, Garrus. Don’t forget that.” _

“I love you, too. Call you soon.” Adrien had smiled and nodded once before cutting the line for them. The screen went black almost immediately before a message popped up.

_ {Chat disconnected. User Victus offline.} _

Garrus was glad that he did it, not knowing if he’d of had the strength to do it himself, and his partner likely knew that. Breathing was hard right now, talking worse. He ached in places he didn’t even know could ache. His head hurt. Everything was just so physically rough, not to mention emotionally weighty. 

Taking a wavering breath in he looked up at a second knock on the door, his father’s face was in the window. Checking to see if he was ready. Whatever misgivings they’d had before, all seemed to be mended now. Raising his good arm, he waved him in. Three doctors on his heels, two familiar and one new. It was time to get back to reality. 

At the very least, that meant getting back to Adrien. And for that? He would do anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -VV


	16. Homesick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrus feels a little homesick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another few thousands words for you! We don't get back to Palaven quite yet, but I think you'll enjoy this regardless.
> 
> Definition time!  
> Flash Flood Romance: Definition (expr.) Origin turian. Passionate affair that happens very quickly. Example: After a flash flood romance of only a few weeks under the stresses of a Galactic war, Garrus and Adrien bonded.

“Mmiranda, Karin. Nice to sssee you,” Garrus greeted as the pair walked in, flanked by two turians, a female who he assumed was a doctor and his father. He could visibly see relief on the human doctor’s face, and the ex-Cerberus operative was a little less showy but he noticed the smile in her eyes as well. Castis sat down beside him, while the other three stood in a gaggle at the foot of his bed.

“Good to see you awake,” Chakwas replied. “Scared us a bit.” He hummed in acknowledgment, still reluctant to speak when he could avoid it. “This is Doctor Imari, she’ll be overseeing your care here at Huerta. I’ll be in from time to time though. You can be certain of that.”

The turian doctor stepped forwards, placing a covered tray down on the table beside him. “Advisor Vakarian, a pleasure. Our priority is getting you back to a healthy weight, I’ve given your father the details for the regimen and I will be here to oversee it.”

He glanced over at the tray, his stomach betraying its hunger with a groan. The sniper was about to reach for it when Miranda spoke up. “You might want to wait a few minutes, Garrus. If you’ll let me I can fix your cybernetics now, at the very least your mandible.”

“I’d rather he start eating,” Imari argued, from her tone Garrus could tell the argument wasn’t new. 

Lawson was having none of it. “If you want him to keep it down? You’ll let me fix it first.” They went back and forth a few more times before Castis put a stop to it. He doubted this would be the last time the females were in disagreement.  

“Mmiranda, jusss do it.” 

With a sigh, Imari crossed the room to stand by the window. Watching the skycars whiz by a distance away, her arms in easy parade rest behind her back. Miranda pulled a pair of gloves from the drawer of the medical unit at his side, before settling on a high stool with her tools laid out beside her. Gloving up as well, Karin assisted. 

Like last time, the tools reminded Garrus more of what you’d be using to fix a computer more than what you’d use for surgery, superficial as the final stages were. Regardless, he let them work and tried to keep still in anticipation of the nerve connection that he remembered all too vividly from after Omega. 

Castis was still quiet, not having said anything since breaking up the fight. He set his hand on his son’s arm, watching as the humans worked uncertain of what they were doing and not quite knowing what to expect. First she worked on the mandible specifically then down to a space on his shoulder where a plate was missing under the bandages. The time ticked by, maybe fifteen minutes before the black haired woman spoke. “That’s everything, ready Garrus?”

He gave her a half nod. “Do it.” 

There was a tiny electronic  _ ping  _ like sound in the second before Garrus stifled a screech through ground together teeth. His eyes closed, hand fisted into the sheets. Lawson had moved back, giving him space. When she was satisfied with how much he’d calmed she moved back in. 

“Test it out for me,” she asked him. He grimaced but flared his mandible outwards and then pulled it back into his face. “Good, looks like it took well.”

“Spirits I hope so,” the younger Vakarian grumbled, words clear. “I’d rather not do that again.” He seemed to notice it just as quickly as the rest of the group, no more slurring. He rubbed underneath his jaw, easing the ache. “Thanks, Miranda.”

Removing her gloves, she smiled. “The arm can wait until tomorrow without risking too much additional damage.”

“Additional?” Castis asked the question for him.

Miranda’s face dropped a little. Karin stepped in, taking her place. “Some cell death occurred over the past few weeks, blood flow was restricted to your arm since your cybernetics went offline.”

“I’ve managed to repair most of it but supplies are low since the war ended. I couldn’t get access to stem cells,” Lawson continued where the other human left off. “You should have full functionality, but I’m expecting the nerve degeneration to impact your reaction time and sensation.”

Garrus clicked his tongue, making a face. “So be it.”

“If you’re finished Doctor Lawson,” Imari interjected from the window, seemingly done with waiting. “I’d like to go over the Advisor’s treatment plan.”

“Garrus is fine, not sure that a Reaper Advisor is really necessary anymore.”

Half nodding, she crossed to stand by his bed. Passing him a can from the tray she’d brought in earlier, it was one of the high calorie energy drinks usually reserved for turian cabal units. Biotics required massive amounts of energy and the cans could provide a much needed pick-me-up between skirmishes. 

“You’ll be in hospital here at least a week before I will consider releasing you, you’ll see your fitness and weight target here,” she passed Castis a datapad, which he skimmed as she continued. “Once you meet the standards I’ve set we can consider having you come in on an outpatient basis.”

“When can I leave for Palaven?” the sniper asked around the lip of the can, already halfway done the drink despite the lingering nausea from Miranda’s procedure.

Imari hummed in consideration. “Palaven is not yet well equipped to handle your care, sir.”

“Garrus,” he reiterated, confidence coming back to him now that he could speak clearly. “Two week. Two weeks and I want to be on my way to Palaven. I’ll follow your instructions to the letter, but I will be going home.” He glanced at Castis, who nodded encouragingly.

The female turian glanced at the human women, looking for support before she shot him down. Finding none, she acquiesced. “Two weeks.”

“Every instruction, Garrus?” Chakwas asked, a wry smile crossing her face. “More than I ever got out of you.”

“The incentive is a little more tangible this time.”

+-+-+-

Hours later, Garrus was finally alone.

Given space to shower in peace after a forcefully long walk of the hospital corridors and enough food that he thought he might burst. Between the near constant stream of high calorie drinks he’d eaten three ration bars and a bland dinner of protein paste. Tomorrow morning he’d be starting on solid foods twice a day in addition the the regimen. Water cascaded down his back, overly warm and pleasant on his aching muscles. 

Although his right arm still hung useless at his side, he was enjoying the use of his mandible again. Half dreading the upcoming surgery, but mostly just wanting it over and done with. Walking hurt, breathing hurt. But nothing hurt more than knowing Adrien was waiting for him and also knowing he wasn’t able to get there yet.

A day’s travel.

He sighed, leaning his crest against his forearm on the wall. Eyes closed so he didn’t look at himself in the slowly fogging mirror. His plates were doing better, no longer flaking but still dull. His hide was looking less loose now than it had, but the bulk of his muscle mass had started to leave him. The last time he was this small was when he was wearing light armor at C-Sec instead of the heavier gear he’d started to favor as Archangel.

Finishing up and drying off enough to slip into the loose sleeping pants his father had brought for him, Garrus opened the door to his room. He was startled to see he wasn’t alone, having sent Castis to the family apartment for a real night’s rest. “Shepard?”

“Garrus,” the human replied with a smile in his voice. Sitting in a wheelchair by the window, he rolled a few feet forwards. “Thing about having a Shadow Broker for a girlfriend? She tells you when your best friend is up and moving. It’s uh… good to see you.”

The turian nodded. “Guess we’re not quite ready to meet at the bar yet, eh?”

“No,” he chuckled. “Something you said about having some little blue babies might have kept me back. Glad to see you didn’t start without me.”

“You already drink me under the table. No way am I giving you a handicap,” wincing when he realised what he’d said, he apologised. “Sorry.”

Shaking his head, the Commander waved him off. “No harm done. I’ll be good as new in a couple months. Or well, better than I should be at least. I should be dead… again.” The human rubbed the back of his head, humming as he tried to think of his next words. “It’s me who should be apologizing. I hear you very nearly didn’t make it back.”

“I’m here. I’ll mend.”

“No. You almost died because I traded our last couple crates of rations for medical supplies. That’s on me, G.” He wouldn’t meet the turian’s eyes, instead choosing a convenient corner to stare at. “I asked you to take care of Liara, and very nearly starved you in the process.”

Garrus took a few slow steps forwards, grabbing the chair his father had been using to sit down in. It felt better than looming over his friend. “Shepard, I remember being the one to ask you for those rations. The entire week we were on the Citadel? I was with the refugees, I saw how hungry they were. We needed medical supplies, they needed food. I wasn’t supposed to get back on the ship.”

“But you did!” he interjected.

With a playful tilt of his newly working mandible, Vakarian changed tactics. “You know? Survivor’s guilt is only allowed when you’re the only survivor. I accept your apology, and the next round’s on you. Hm, no. The next dozen rounds are on you.” 

“Fuck.”

He laughed. “You’ll be alright. There should be plenty of royalties coming your way. You might even be bigger than Blasto if we play our cards right.” 

Groaning, the Commander covered his, still bruised, face. “Oh don’t worry Vakarian, you’ll be right beside me in those vids. Couldn’t do it without you.”

“Of course you could, not as stylishly. But you could.” He reached out his good arm, Shepard met him in the middle. Clasping it with his own. “Good to be back.”

“Good to have you back.”

+-+-+

The week could be considered grueling at best. Garrus gained five kilograms back, putting him back into what Imari was considering his safe range. His arm was working, albeit not quite as well as he’d hoped. Miranda was right in telling him there would be some lasting damage, sensation in his hand was dulled, numb almost like he’d been sitting on it. But it worked, and he hoped it would continue to improve.

“So I can leave?” Garrus confirmed with Imari.

She nodded. “I expect you here, on time, daily. You will continue to eat your allotted rations, and if you fail a standard I give? You’ll be an in-patient again. Am I clear?

“Crystal.”

Castis nodded, humming in amusement at his son’s enthusiasm. “I’ll make sure he does.”

“Then Mr. Vakarian, you can take your son home.” The Vakarians thanked the doctor and headed for the door. Garrus more surefooted than she’d seen over the past few days, and his father looking quite relieved. 

They exited the hospital together, through a lesser used side entrance. Garrus’ face was one of the most recognizable turian faces now that the war was over. His scars making him an easy mark among the more well known crew members even with other species. Most aliens thought that turians looked alike, disregarding colouring and colony paint, but the scars distinguished him as much as the vibrant blue of his visor.

A C-Sec patrol car waited for them. Over the past weeks Castis had been in contact with the new Executor Chellick, Garrus’ old partner. When he’d learned of their travel predicament Decian had offered the escort. Perhaps it was overkill, but he didn’t want to risk his son’s fragile health if someone were to try something. Paranoia had kept him alive thus far and he planned to keep it that way.

The family apartment was still in good repair. Far away from the docks as it was, it hadn’t been used for refugees during the war. Castis only felt half bad about that fact, as it meant it was available to him now. When they reached the building, they left the officer behind in the patrol car. Not really speaking until they entered the elevator. 

“Your room is as you left it, Garrus. But if you’d prefer my study to avoid the stairs I can set up a place for you.”

“No thanks, I’ll manage the stairs if it means I get a real bed.” he hummed in tired reply. “Have you been by my place by any chance?”

“I checked in on it, it’s vacant and still standing.” Castis inclined his head. “What do you need? We can go in the morning before you meet  with Imari.”

Garrus picked at his shirt, which hung loose on him. “Would be nice to have some of my own clothes. It can wait.” He leaned against the wall, letting it take some of his weight. His father regarded him, watching the even rise and fall of his chest, the slump of his shoulders from fatigue.

“I can stop by tonight, if you’d prefer?”

“Mhm, it’s fine. Tomorrow.” 

“Garrus.”

“Dad?” he replied in the same questioning tone, opening his eyes to look over. He could see the questions burning and tried to blow them off. “I’m just tired. The war caught up to me, or maybe I caught up with it. Doesn’t matter.” 

Castis hummed soothingly instead of replying directly, stepping to his son’s side as the door opened to their floor and sliding his arm around him to help him to the door. 

Once they were inside he immediately helped Garrus up the stairs to his room, not giving him an option otherwise. He’d stocked the nightside table with ration bars and drinks, left out some more comfortable sleeping clothes, and turned the temperature up to a comfortable Palaven like temperature. “I’d rather not leave you alone, but your apartment isn’t far. Send me a list, I’ll be back soon.”

As he crossed to the door, Garrus watched him somewhat awed. “Dad,” he called out. Castis turned at the door, holding onto the frame as he looked back. “I… Thank you.”

“No,” he replied gently. “I wasn’t a very good father to you and your sister. I lost you once, Garrus. I missed too much. I won’t let that happen again.” Ignoring Garrus’ attempted reply he left, closing the door behind him. 

Left alone, Garrus sent his father a short list with the locations of everything he needed. Just some basics, clothing from when he was slimmer, a spare pistol that was better than the C-Sec standard issue one he’d procured, a datapad. Once he finished that he pinged Adrien. 

He didn’t have to wait long.

_ {Connection request accepted - Live chat open} _

_ A: I missed you today. Busy? _

_ G: Got released. Been a whirlwind of a day.  _

_ G: I want to see you. _

_ A: Soon, love. Can’t wait to hold you in my arms.  _

_ G: Sounds nice. _

_ A: How’re you feeling? _

_ {G is typing...} _

_ G: Tired. _

_ A: Took a long time for such a short message.  _

_ A: What’s going on? _

_ G: Are you alone?  _

_ {Video chat requested - Accept?Y/N} _

_ {Request Denied} _

_ A: Not yet. I can be if you need me.  _

_ G: I can wait.  _

_ G: You have more important things to deal with. _

_ A: No.  _

_ A: Nothing is more important. Just give me a minute.  _

Garrus felt a little guilty for pushing.  _ Manipulating _ , his mind unhelpfully supplied. But he wanted a few minutes with his mate. They’d been texting daily, though they’d only synced for video once since their initial call. 

He changed into the light pants and intentionally loose shirt his father had left for him before sliding into the turian styled bed. Immediately feeling more relaxed as the pillows moulded to him and his body heat became trapped in the blankets. 

_ {Video chat requested - Accept?Y/N} _

Hitting the accept key immediately, the sniper watched as the Primarch’s face came into view. He let out a slow breath, tension falling a little further away. “ _ Better?” _ his partner asked, smiling at him through the tablet.

“Much,” he replied before rubbing the back on his neck sheepishly. “Sorry to pull you away. What were you working on?”

Adrien leaned back in his chair, the, now somewhat familiar, background of his office becoming visible as he did so.  _ “Don’t apologise. You saved me from another hour with the Volus Ambassador. I was able to skip the last half his presentation in favor of reading it in a report.” _

“In that case, happy to help. I…” he paused humming as he tried to come up with something to say. “Uh… sorry. There’s nothing specific I needed. Just wanted to see you.”

_ “Garrus, please stop apologising. I wanted to see you too. You said you were released? It doesn’t look like you’re on a transport.” _

Shaking his head, the younger turian looked away. “Not yet,” he was almost shy in his response. At the very least morose. “Another week maybe. I’m at my family’s apartment, still have to go back for treatment during the day, but at least I don’t need to sleep there now.”

_ “Progress.” _

“I guess?”

_ “Guess?”  _ Adrien scoffed.  _ “Two weeks ago you were in a coma, love. It’s going to take time. The thought that you’re out of the hospital warms me. It means you’re one step closer to coming home. _ ” Pausing, he waited for a nod from Garrus and for the younger turian to meet his eyes again. When he did, he changed the topic. _ “We should discuss that.” _

“What?”

_ “Coming home, and what that means. _ ” he clarified. “ _ We didn’t have much time to discuss it before we parted ways. You said that you wanted to be together when this was over, and I’d like to be as well. In the open. Would you consider that? A life together.” _

It took a few moments for Garrus to form proper words, but Adrien could tell immediately from the surprised yet happy subharmonic cues that the answer was positive. “I’d like that,” he said in a voice smaller than Victus had ever heard him use. 

_ “My Maldis was destroyed,” _ he began, before quickly backpedaling when he saw the apology on Garrus’ face.  _ “There were memories there, but I’ll persevere. I’m currently living in a small apartment down the street from my office, it isn’t much, but you’re welcome.”  _

His mandibles quirked into a smile. “I’m used to living in the weapons battery of a starship. Before that, a one bedroom apartment on the Citadel, built with asari in mind. It sounds great, Adrien. I’d really really like that. Maybe...” he cleared his throat. “Maybe we could have a bonding ceremony. Not right away. But eventually? Nothing big.”

He might’ve gone on, but Adrien cut in.  _ “I’d like that. Once your friends are well enough to travel, that is. I feel as though your Commander would be put out if he weren’t invited.” _

Garrus half laughed, half groaned. “I’d never hear the end of it. Tali too, she was mad enough we’d kept it a secret as long as we did.”

“At least we’ll have delegates from other species covered,” Victus sighed. “Your sister and father, my brother made it along with his mate and eldest son. Corinthus.”

“Seems like it won’t be as small as I thought.”

_ “We’ll manage,” _ Adrien assured him.  _ “There’s also the matter of paint,” _ touching the screen as he spoke.  _ “How long has it been since you reapplied?” _

He winced, touching the faded blue on his cheek. “Years. Before Saren.”

_ “You’re welcome to mine,”  _ he said conversationally, knowing that it was a big decision for every mated turian. His first mate had taken his, and Tarquin had been painted before leaving for mandatory service. But it was Garrus’ decision, his identity to choose. _ “And I won’t be put out if you want to keep your own, Vakarian is an old name. Just, think about it?” _

“I will,” the younger turian nodded. “At the least? I’d like to modify. Maybe we can decide together?” He hummed in thought a moment before deciding to elaborate on the latter idea. “My parents did. Modify, I mean. Mom took dad’s colour and dad added the high cheek lines,” he drew his talons across his cheek plate to emphasise. 

“Solana and I took from both, the same colour and cheek. But left the rest to add through our careers,” talons skated along his mandibles, “Distinguish hierarchy service. Solana has them too. Blackwatch for her and…” he paused, clearing his throat. “Hasistim for me.” Then over his nasal plates he drew the parallel lines, “C-Sec honors, detective distinction.”

Adrien was a little taken aback by the Hasistim comment, but let it slide. Today wasn’t the day to discuss the turian urban warfare squadron. He knew part of Garrus’ Hierarchy records were sealed, before now he’d never thought to unlock them. Considering the distinctions and recommendations on what parts of the file he could see, it hadn’t mattered.

_ “My own have been passed down for a long time,” _ he explained instead.  _ “Though I’m the last. The eldest child has been imprinted with these since the unification wars. Tarquin…” _ he hesitated over the name, unable to finish. Garrus soothed him as best he could, humming comfort and pressing his talons to his crest in lieu of the ability to touch him. 

“Is there a bathhouse in operation yet?” 

Adrien’s mandibles pulled in tight to his face as he considered the abrupt change in topic. _ “I’m not sure.” _

“Well… if there is? We could test a few options. Get mine redone in the meantime. I wouldn’t mind seeing mine on you once, even if they weren’t permanent.”

_ “I’d like that. _ ”

“That’s uh…” he stopped to yawn. Unsuccessfully, trying to stifle it. “Good. I’m glad.”

The Primarch smiled, shaking his head a little at his partner. For someone so confident he was adorably awkward when behind closed doors. _ ”I should let you rest, the sooner you’re well. The sooner you’re home.” _

Garrus heard the door open on the lower level of the apartment, his father’s familiar gait from the door to the stairs. “Dad’s back,” he told Adrien. “I love you. We can talk more tomorrow?”

_ “Of course. Sleep well, love.” _ He pressed his talons to his crest before signing off, Garrus did the same. 

_ {Chat disconnected. User Victus offline.} _

A gentle knock at the door preceded his father’s entrance. Castis didn’t seem surprised that Garrus wasn’t asleep yet, especially when he watched him put the datapad away. He stepped into the dimly lit room, placing the duffle onto his desk before crossing to the side of the bed. 

“Eat anything yet?” he asked. At the face his son made he sighed, passing him a ration bar. “Two more before sleep, or would you rather I woke you in a few hours?”

“I’ll manage,” he mumbled around another bite. Castis turned to leave, but stopped at his son’s next words. “Did… did you want to talk? I think I’m ready to. A least a bit.”

He took a few steps further towards the door, but instead of leaving, he picked up the chair from under the desk and returned to Garrus’ side. “Where would you like to begin?”

“I’m sure you’re curious about the story behind these,” he gestured to the scarred side of his face. “I told you it was a rocket but never the lead up.”

“That’s a story I’d like to hear.”

Hesitating, the younger turian confirmed. “You’re sure? It’s not glamorous.”

“Go ahead,” Castis prompted, subvocals soothing.

“You remember our argument about Kishpaugh when I left C-Sec?” His father nodded. “Well after I quit Spectre training, I… I hunted him down. The search took me to Omega.” Castis tensed but said nothing, so Garrus continued. Rehashing his first days on the station to his final ones; building a team, an identity. Archangel’s rise and fall from grace. His anger. Lost faith in the Council. 

His decision to make the Galaxy just a little bit brighter before the Reapers came. 

The subsequent betrayal. His saviour. The suicide run. All of the things that he left out from their initial talks of his time away were laid out before Castis. The nuisances he’d missed. The bright points and the dark ones. Garrus alluded to a partner then, but never mentioned a name. A partner turn betrayer. He left it be, if he needed to know more then his son would tell him.

When he was finished with the first half of his story, they took a short break from it. The father instead telling his son of their time apart, how he and Solana fared in the early days of the war. The evacuation, the struggle to gain medical attention for his sister. Their dashed hopes as they arrived in the Widow system to see the Citadel be dragged away. And how they only barely made it through the relay to Sol before the relays shut down.   

When it was Garrus’ turn to speak again he was happier, even though the reasoning for meeting his mate was grim, it wasn’t the darkest time in his life. Castis had believed him and the old Primarch had listened. The young Vakarian was given a task force, the power to make change. And this was where he’d initially met, the then General, Victus.

Garrus explained how the two of them became fast friends before the war, both the conventional and unconventional tactics Garrus suggested, from increasing supply stores and communications lines to training recruits with a heavier hand in close combat, were taken seriously and mostly granted with the help of the General. 

Then, when the Reapers hit, he told him of how they were stationed together on Palaven’s lunar base. How holding the moon was vital to the planet’s survival. Castis had known that Victus was infamous for his unconventional tactics and his son was the closest thing to an expert the Hierarchy had on the Reapers, it was abundantly clear that the duo was the Hierarchy’s first choice for the moon. 

“So it started then?” he asked.

But Garrus shook his head. “Not yet. We were on the  _ Normandy  _ when it happened. After the initial War Summit we were headed to Tuchanka,” he clenched his jaw at the planet’s name, taking a breath before continuing. “A couple hours out, we were all tense. I uh… suggested a spar. He agreed. It devolved?” he finished, a little embarrassed. 

The older turian tilted his crest in a way that expressed his understanding. “Bonds have been made on less.” 

Garrus half shrugged. “It wasn’t about that though, wasn’t just stress relief. I might’ve initiated but I think Adrien had wanted to, earlier than I suggested. He wanted me to come to him.”

“He was your superior. I’m sure you realise it’s extremely rare one would ask a subordinate for comfort. They’ll take what is given freely, it’s always been that way. An offer of relief can be anything from a game of cards to a spar, but the subordinate has to initiate.”

Humming in agreement, the younger acquiesced. “I suppose I’d forgotten that. My direct report was T’Klea at C-Sec before Pallin, and Pallin was mated -not that I was interested,” he quickly added in defence at his father’s amused smirk. “Then Shepard.”

“So it became serious quickly?”

“Very. The war just kept piling on. I got hurt on that mission,” he gestured vaguely towards his thigh. “Adrien’s son died. It was tense. We got close. Trusted one another. We were friends and lapsed into so much more so quickly. A flash flood romance that they talk about in the old vids.”

Castis smiled wistfully. “I remember that swept up feeling. Your mother and I met before the Relay 314 incident but weren’t together then.” He laughed. “She hated me.”

“Really?”

“Mhm, you may look like me? But you remind me so much of her. She thought I was too proper, a  _ stuck up Cipritine fledgling _ is what she called me. I had no reason to argue that, she was Blackwatch and I was a Hierarchy MP.”

Garrus’ head cocked to the side in confusion. “But mom…”

“Lied,” Castis finished for him. “She always told the story from the second time we met. The first time? She threw a drink in my face on shore leave,” he chuckled at the memory. “The second time is just as she told you, with perhaps a few less heroics from the both of us.”

“I never knew that.”

“Not many do,” the elder turian waved him off. “So tell me, what happened next?” 

The easy conversation took an abrupt turn, Garrus’ eyes glazing a bit as he lost himself in thought. Castis’ mandibles pulled in tight to his face, uneasy. Wondering what could be worse than the Archangel years. He’d seemed fine just moments ago. 

“Garrus, come back.”

Shaking his head, his eyes cleared. “Sorry,” he said, his subvocals flat.

“You don’t have to go on if you aren’t ready to,” his father replied, trying to comfort him. He reached out, but stopped midway. Instead resting it on the bed between them. Only now realising that touch wasn’t going to help, if anything it was going to hinder. 

Turians took comfort in those they trusted by giving and accepting contact, a predatory species by nature it went against baser instincts. Their entire social structure was built on trust; trust in your superiors and trust in your family. The younger Vakarian’s hand met his. Taking the lifeline and letting it pull him back. 

“I was betrayed again,” he explained, voice still chilly. “By someone who was once nearly as close to me as Adrien is now. They almost convinced me to ruin what Adrien and I were building. I… I tried to.”

There was nothing Castis could say. So he waited, silently. A soothing thrum coming from his chest unbidden in comfort, his hand clasps in the younger male’s. Giving what support he could.

“Adrien convinced me I wasn’t unloveable because of what happened. I still don’t believe him all the time, but I’m trying.”

With a nod, his father agreed. “He cares for you deeply.”

“And I him,” he replied with a small voice and a slight blue flush on his neck. “I wanted to tell you sooner… about us. There was just so much else going on.”

“I understand,” Castis told him truthfully. “Although? You may want to let you sister in on it.”

“Sol doesn’t know... really?” At his nod, Garrus’ face dropped into his hands as he groaned. “Shit. She’s going to kill me.” The elder Vakarian laughed, knowing all too well the grief his daughter could cause. 

+-+-+-+-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Love seeing your kudos and comments in my inbox.  
> :)


	17. Return Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At long last, Garrus returns home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big kudos go out this chapter to a few lovely authors!
> 
> [ **Kuraiummei**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuraiummei/pseuds/Kuraiummei): For some amazing additions that turned this into a mega chapter. Fingers to keyboard for a solid 1500 words of additions that made this chapter sparkle.
> 
> [ **white_Aster**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/white_aster/pseuds/White%20Aster) and [**Spicy_Gnome**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Spicy_Gnome/pseuds/Spicy_Gnome): For the last minute beta read!
> 
> [ **SomeWriter**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Some_Writer/pseuds/Some_Writer): For the show of solidarity among turians that you’ll read. Recommend everyone read their story, The Primarch’s Order. It’s awesome.
> 
> [ **MizDirected**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MizDirected/pseuds/MizDirected): For some turian language additions where the English equivalent just didn’t work. Listed below...
> 
> Caman- the kitchen, usually at the center of the home. A Caman also refers to the hearth at the center of the communal living area.
> 
> If you are expected at a residence:  
> Host greets: Loramici intratar rekescatius  
> Guest thanks and accepts entrance: Espectat utamici tibitias agimetran
> 
> If you are unexpected:  
> Guest asks to enter: Etnul sodaloport nostrari  
> Host accepts: Amicinula utintrarus

 

“One more lap,” Doctor Imari instructed when her patient came around the corner of the physical therapy atrium. The wide open space on the top floor of the hospital had a breathtaking view of the Presidium’s curve, high ceilings with reinforced glass windows to let in the light. It was her favorite place on the Citadel, despite the moderate damage that could be seen from the recent Cerberus coup and subsequent Reaper attack.

The Advisor huffed, acknowledging her with a nod and saving his breath for running the track that encircled the space. The light breeze as he passed by ruffled her lab coat. A smile pulled at her right mandible; he was improving.

The beginning of the week had been a small struggle. Though he was willing to work, his body was reluctant. Gaining weight was proving to be difficult, the amount of food he needed to eat in a day  _ excessive  _ once he began following her fitness plan. It was hard enough for an active over two meter tall turian to eat 4500 calories a day to maintain their weight, let alone the additional calories needed to gain it. 

But as the end of the week drew nearer Garrus grew stronger, much to the Doctor’s contentment. Her standards for his physical fitness requirements were being exceeded as the young turian went from barely being able to walk a few hundred metres, to instead sprinting them. As time passed she raised the bar, quite literally, expecting him back in the weightroom, having various strength training and muscle building routines ready and waiting for him to perform in addition to the rest of the regime.

By the time she was done with him, Imari was sure he’d be able to perform his duties as Advisor to the Primarch. And perhaps even be fighting fit, given enough time.

It helped that the war hero was prompt for his appointments. According to his father he was  _ mostly  _ sleeping through the night and eating as she’d instructed. Although Garrus was still rather tight-lipped in the therapy sessions she was requiring him to take part in, she supposed she could let that slide. Turians, especially military lifers, were notoriously difficult to treat for mental health issues, and he was no different.

This time when he came around the final corner she held up her arm in the Hierarchy militia signal for  _ halt,  _ letting him slow to a stop. “That’s enough for today,” Imari said warmly, a smile crossing her face at the relief on his. He stumbled a few more paces off of the track, shoulders heaving.

“Done?” he eked out between laboured breaths.

“Done.”

“Oh good... I was just starting to think I’d make the other guy look bad.” He gestured around at the nearly empty atrium. There were only two other patients, both of whom were volus, and she couldn’t help but chuckle.

He took that as an excuse to collapse onto his back, sprawled like a star on the ground just far enough off the track to not get trampled if anyone else did decide to come along. She could see the perspiration between the plates on his bare arms, the fabric of his light sleeveless shirt soaked through from his effort this morning.

She let him rest for a few minutes, calmly watching her asari colleague work the other patients though a few basic exercises. Despite being in regular contact with other species, it was still comical to watch the graceful flowing movements try to be copied by the much shorter limbed and less coordinated aliens.

Once he was breathing normally she questioned, “You’re still planning on departing tomorrow morning, I take it?” 

He nodded sharply, a slight smile on his mandibles. 

“Then consider yourself released from my care. I’ve spoken with a colleague on Palaven, a Doctor Mephran. He’ll be overseeing your care once you’re in Cipritine.”

Carefully, Garrus pushed himself up into a sitting position. Rolling out his bad shoulder before standing. “Thanks, doc. I know I’m not the easiest patient.”

That earned him a laugh. “You’ve been a model patient. Though, I do hope you’re talking to someone if not to myself or your therapist.”

“I am,” he admitted, brushing his hand down the length of his fringe almost as if embarrassed. 

“That’s good then,” Imari replied reassuringly, passing the other turian a datapad as he stood up to full height, towering over her. “Your instructions for the next few days, and some exercises I’d like you to do while on the transport.”

Taking the datapad, he prepared to leave. Grabbing his water bottle and tunic from the ground beside her. “I’ll take a look, thank you.”

“I think it’s my turn to thank you, Advisor. If you’ll let me.” She began, trying once again to give him the praise she felt he deserved for his hand in the war.

The water bottle pressed to the edge of his mouth fell away as the tall turian paused. His mandibles pulled tight to his face and his arm dropped to his side. Shaking his head, not for the first time. Her latest attempt denied, as all the others had been.

“It’s just Garrus,” he said without contempt. “Take care of yourself, doc.”

“You too, Garrus,” she called after him, not knowing if he heard her, but at least she’d tried.

+-+-+-+-

From the physical therapy centre’s change rooms, Garrus headed down to the VIP ward to say his goodbyes to Liara and the Commander. The two had been inseparable since the  _ Normandy _ had limped back to the Citadel. The asari going so far as to set up a cot in the hospital room until Miranda allowed him to be discharged. And that day was coming soon.

Shepard had gone from haltingly slow progress to leaping forwards with their arrival. It was obvious to the turian that the human’s heart just hadn’t been in it before reuniting with his love and his team. He understood that feeling all too well. Since they’d been back Shepard had started walking, albeit with a cane, and began following all of his doctor’s instructions with a little more gusto.

He ambled down the hall, coming to the familiar door of his best friend’s room. The window blinds were down, and the door closed. Well versed in the perils of walking in on those two without warning, Garrus brushed a knuckle against the door chime, hearing a muted  _ ping _ from the other side. 

For a moment there was nothing, then a quiet shuffle, and finally the door sliding open with a quiet pneumatic hiss.

Liara came into view, smiling warmly as she beckoned him inside. “Garrus, good to see you.”

“You too,” he replied and stepped in, dropping his bag by the doorframe. “Shepard.”

The human waved from his chair by the window, the Alliance military hand signal for  _ hold on _ visible through it as he went back to what he was typing on his omnitool. Garrus had gotten used to reading those signals over the years, just as well as he knew the Hierarchy ones.

“You’re looking better,” the asari said casually, ushering him into the chair across from her lover. She took up a place behind the human, leaning gracefully against the back of Shepard’s chair, her head on top of his. 

Her need to be in constant contact with John was noticed, but the way his shoulders relaxed when she touched him told Garrus all he needed to know. They were leaning on one another, as they always had. 

Humming contently, he sat back in his own chair. Getting comfortable. “Feeling good. Imari cleared me for travel. Wanted to stop in before I left. I… uh… wanted to make sure you two aren’t going to get up to you know, chase down anymore yahg while I’m gone.”

“You weren’t much help last time,” Liara reminded him, an amused smirk on her lips.

He sighed, “You get hit by a desk once and they never let you live it down. Just… don’t get into too much trouble, alright?”

“Shepard?? Trouble??” She broke into laughter not half a syllable into the attempt at disbelief, and he joined her, ignoring John’s pretend scowl at the both of them as he worked. With the will to recover came the other male’s sense of snark, and a renewed ability to fall into the latest mess. 

Whether that was a lunch room scuffle or an assassin come for someone in the room down the hall…. At this point, they might as well hang a sign on the wall that said something like, ‘ _ Days since Commander Shepard’s last incident: 0.’ _ .

Garrus’ laughter petered out into a wide smile, shoulders feeling a little lighter. It was good to see Liara in high spirits. He’d seen enough friends holding onto the smallest lifelines of hope to stave of crippling depression, both during the war and after. This was… what he wanted. Laughter. They all deserved a metric ton of it.

“Sorry,” Shepard joined the conversation, one brow raised at him as he gave Liara a sidelong look. “Had to finish that message for Hackett.”

Liara returned the look with a hint of exaggerated disdain. “The Admiral has been asking about when Shepard’s going to be back to active duty,” she explained. 

He chuffed, not entirely liking the sound of that. Couldn’t they wait a few months? Or better yet, years? Garrus leaned forwards in his chair, arms crossing. “Not retiring, Shepard?”

“From front line service I am,” he confirmed. “Just not so sure about light duty.” He looked back at the asari. “Liara wants me to.”

“I’m not saying you need to stop forever,” she defended. “Just… for a little while.”

Garrus hummed again, this time in agreement. “At least take a month or two more, Shepard. Get out of the hospital and find a beach somewhere.”

“I do remember hearing something about vid royalties,” Liara mused. 

“Since EDI came back online Joker has been in a damn good mood. I’m sure that snarky pilot of yours would be willing to help you steal the  _ Normandy _ for old time’s sake. Find an uninhabited island or something.”

“What is it with you and beaches?” the Commander asked with a chuckle of his own.

He gave a half-hearted shrug in reply. “Grew up in the sun,” he smiled a little wistful. “Miss the feeling of it on my plates, don’t you? On your ah… skin, that is.”

Shepard leaned back and looked upward as he considered it. Garrus was fairly certain the Commander was about to change the subject, too used to how good he and Liara were at breaking down his resolve when they banded together. “Sometimes. I’ve been living on ships for a long time, gotten sort of accustomed to the artificial stuff. So... you’re leaving for Palaven?”  

“Mhm. I’m uh… not sure when I’ll be back. But when you’re able? I’d like it if you both would come for a visit. We’re…” he coughed, throat flushing blue. “Adrien and I, that is. We’re planning on making a little time to have a ceremony. I… or well we, I suppose, would like you to be there, if it’s not too much trouble.”

The Broker’s eyes widened, sparkling with delight at the news. “That’s  _ wonderful _ , Garrus!” 

Liara’s bright words were contagious, a warm smile stretching Shepard’s face until dimples exaggerated the expression even more. Garrus’ mandibles fluttered with embarrassment and appreciation for their supportive words. “Congrats, G. I’m glad you convinced him.”

“It didn’t take much,” he admitted, a nervous laugh escaping as he palmed the back of his neck.

“Well, on that note, I suppose it’s fair to share and share alike….” Shepard tilted his head back again to look up at Liara, smile tilting into a prideful grin.“I really don’t know if turians do this sort of thing, but this-” he slid his hand down pebbly blue skin, and held out the asari’s hand for Garrus to see, a ring with a sparkling stone on her fourth finger. “-is what humans do when they want to bond with someone.”

Liara giggled in response to the delighted flutter of mandibles he gave at the -admittedly- overdue update to their relationship, her own expression practically glowing with happiness. It was… something special to see Liara looking so cheerful, what with the heavy responsibilities that came from the asari’s career choices, nevermind the war. He stood, pulling her into a hug before clasping his hand on the Commander’s shoulder.  

“Really, Shepard? Couldn’t wait to make it even in relationship status as well as headshots?”

“Pftt. I’m leading on both accounts.”

“Not according to this,” he tapped his visor, “you’re not.”

The Commander waved dismissively, as if that couldn’t possibly be right but he didn’t want to argue it, then gestured to Liara. “Fine, fine, you’re still King of the Bottle Shooters. But my bondmate? Is a hell of a lot prettier.”

Garrus winked at the asari. “You got me there, Shepard, but... Liara?”

“Hm?” she inquired, eyes suspiciously wet looking as she beamed.

“Adrien is a hell of a lot luckier than you!”    
  
“Oi!”

Garrus cackled as Liara pressed fingers to her lips to quell another giggle while he dodged under the half hearted punch John threw. He grabbed the underpowered blow at the wrist and pulled the scarred, incredible human into what James would call ‘a bro hug’. 

“Really, congratulations. You two have more than earned it.”

“Thanks, G.” Shepard cleared his throat, clearly not immune to the overwhelming nature of life’s little gifts in the face of just… surviving it all. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

He let the human go, pulling back to clap him on the shoulder one more time. “Of course you could’ve, just not as stylishly.”

John scoffed. “Never living that one down.”

“Never,” he agreed.

+-+-+-+-

Boarding the transport ship should have been just like every other time Garrus had done it. Instead it was... nerve wracking. A fight just to walk up the boarding ramp. A crawling, cold sweat started to break out on his neck before the airlock’s decon cycle even finished. 

He fought it, pride and self-annoyance battling the feeling down, trying hard to just… act normal.

Even now, as he sat across from his father in their small private cabin, he couldn’t stop his anxiety from showing through. His talons drummed on his thigh while they waited for the other passengers to finish boarding, and preflight checks to finish. He awaited the subtle sensation of undocking with both dread, and longing. 

The sooner the ship got underway, the sooner he could put boots to the ground again.

The transport was a military vessel that would normally have been used to gather troops from their various home ports and for postings on different worlds or warships. The compact, quick vessel had instead been repurposed for refugee transport… since most private charter ships were currently either in pieces, or had been used to drive their owners far, far away from the fighting. Many were still missing entirely. Yet another problem that needed solving.   
  
The only private space onboard had been graciously given to the Vakarian males by the ship’s Captain, something they’d tried to decline, but the short female had strongly insisted. Apparently one of the many colonies he’d arranged to receive extra stocks of medical supplies before things had gotten bad had been her home colony. Her diabetic sister was alive because their insulin supplies held out. Because of him. 

He hadn’t known what to say…. It had felt good to hear. 

Now he and his father were tucked in the Captain’s ready room, which suited their purposes just fine. Two cots leaned against the far wall, folded to save space until either of them were ready to sleep for any part of the twenty-hour journey. A nap maybe… if he could relax long enough to catch one.

Castis looked up from his omnitool for the fifth time, the retired detective’s eyes reading him like a datapad, obviously trying to look casual about it. 

“Need something, Garrus?” 

He shook his head. “No.”

Giving him a skeptical look, his father closed his tool and leaned forward, palms spread, and words warm. “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours, son. I’d like to help if I can. No judgement, I promise.”

Sighing, Garrus gave a half-hearted shrug. He hid a wince from the slight twinge it caused in his right shoulder. The one he braced his rifle against for every bullet that his Widow fired, and he’d fired a helluva lot of them this past year. His deterioration after the crash hadn’t helped. 

“I’m being... irrational.”

“How so?”

“Spent the better part of my adult life on starships and space stations. Space travel shouldn’t make me nervous.” He looked away, eyes tracing the star charts on the wall behind the Captain’s desk. 

“Which part of it is making you nervous?” 

Garrus’ mandibles pulled tightly to his jaw, brow ridges furrowing slightly as he tried to sort out the whirl of emotions that had him unsteady on his own feet. 

“I…”

“There’s a lot of things to be nervous about, especially when going from a top of the line stealth frigate to an older troop ship like this….”   
  
“It’s… not that.”   
  
“Oh? Hmm… well, maybe a distraction then. Kava, lunch maybe?” He couldn’t help the flinch in his shoulders at the mention of food.

The older male was on point with his intuitive guesses, as usual; a lifetime of crime scene investigation and hunting through witness reports still giving him an edge on seeing something that Garrus himself didn’t particularly want to face yet. Or ever, really. 

“Yeah. I uh... “ he swallowed, trying to sort his concerns. “It’s not long. I know that. It’s just…”

“You don’t need to justify yourself to me, Garrus.” His father cut him off before he could stumble any further down that hole. “Fear isn’t rational.”

“I’ve stared down Reapers on foot, Dad. I shouldn’t be afraid of missing a meal.”

Castis blew out a breath, looking like he wanted to argue. Instead he took his time, choosing the right words. “There’s a difference, son. You can fight a Reaper.”

Garrus fidgeted, rolling his wrists out to stall for time. A reply didn’t come. Eventually he looked up, crest tilting to slide between carapace and wall. 

He understood the difference, logically, and he understood the nature of fear… logically. But in the midst of it? It didn’t help. It couldn’t.

Even knowing there was two weeks worth of food tucked away in his bag for the twenty hour trip… three, if he rationed. Four if he rationed hard.

He hummed noncommittally at the advice, appreciating the attempt even if it didn’t help. 

“You’ve made it this far, a few more hours and it’ll all be worth it.”

His father wasn’t wrong. There was someone very worthwhile waiting for him on the other side. 

+-+-+-+

Stepping off of the transport shuttle and onto the concrete platform of Cipritine’s main spaceport was eye opening. A mass effect field covered the top of the building in lieu of the roof that should have been towering overhead. Through it, he could see the sky was thick with soot from long burning fires. It was normally an endless blue, threaded with silver wisps of cloud and patches of color where the ozone thinned…

Now it was just… grey. Bland, disheartening ash as far as the eye could see, as if the spirit of Palaven itself was depressed.  

Hundreds of turians bustled around, many embarking and disembarking from ships, others hard at work on cleanup and restoration. The floors were cleared of rubble, but walls were still crumbling, the once clean lines he remembered were instead jagged and ugly. The artwork in the stone floors was damaged in parts, dirty in others. 

It was nothing like it should have been. Only the bloody determination in the workers’ sub vocals and expressions kept him from falling to his knees in the rubble. 

His mind was racing.  _ ‘I didn’t do enough… didn’t find enough ways to… it wasn’t good enou-’ _

“Son?” 

“Ah… sorry.” He walked forwards carefully, ruck slung over his shoulder and rifle case gripped tightly in his opposing hand. The weight of the destruction, reasonable or not, sat heavy on his shoulders. It didn’t help that he’d slept all of an hour last night, and hadn’t been able to do more than doze the rest of the time. 

He’d tried, really, but the anxiety… he huffed.

Regardless, Garrus felt a sort of undeniable relief at being home and free from the confines of the transport. Spirits, it was good to be on solid ground. A few more hours of air travel via skycar, and he’d see his love again. That thought kept him moving more than anything else waiting for him here. Bad as that sounded, it was true. 

When they’d arranged transport, Adrien had argued for meeting him on the landing pad, even though they both knew it was too exposed, and too dangerous. Garrus had returned with the obvious arguments, managing to crack an ‘expert advisor’ joke as they both tried to stay positive, and instead proposed to meet at his family home after Adrien was finished with most of the day’s demands. The Vakarian _maldis_ was just outside of the city limits and much closer to the spaceport than the capitol building. It also had private rooms where they could both hide from the world and just be themselves for a few precious hours.

Following a half step behind his father, they made their way toward the security stations. Typically the exit lines were split into two sections: Hierarchy citizens and noncitizens. With the war that order had been thrown off, many losing their ident cards and omnitools in the evacuation rush, or later on in refugee camps. ‘Check your email for news’ or ‘trade it away and eat today’ had been a real choice asked of those in hiding. 

As such, everyone was thrown together, the limited number of functioning biometric scanners working overtime to log and cross reference the deluge of people passing through. 

“This way, Garrus. Solana mentioned they’d added more security stations... I think I see why now.”

“Ah… yeah, same.”

He turned as his father did, exiting the terminal and patiently moving with the crowd.

Conditions were beyond cramped, with Palaven being one of the few core worlds that had retained at least some of its infrastructure. Their people were also pack predators by nature. The instinct to double down somewhere safe had drawn insane numbers of hopeful… but not all were allowed to stay. Another thing to talk to someone about. Hopefully not his mate though. Adrien already had enough on his plate.

It was midday, and like every other spaceport that meant it was an especially busy time. Not only were there too many people, but Trebia radiated her heat down on them. The lack of conditioned air and shade grated on those more used to starships and the cooler temperatures of the Citadel. Garrus smiled weakly at himself, not entirely innocent of that small adaptation.

They were about a third of the way through the line when whispers began. 

Someone had put a name to Garrus’ face and it spread like  _ wildfire _ . It had been bad enough on the Citadel for his recognizability, but on Palaven it seemed to be ten times worse. The murmurs of ‘ _ Is that? No, it couldn’t be. _ ’ and  _ ‘I heard he was on _ -’ wasn’t filled with any particular tone, but Garrus swore he could hear the judgement of those he hadn’t saved in every third word. 

He swallowed, heavily.

Packed in tightly as could be amid the strict lanes of travellers trying to get through customs, he could feel the tension build in his shoulders as his stomach knotted and his neck warmed. As the Primarch’s Advisor, he’d proved he could lead armies, but as himself, standing amongst the sub vocal hums of interest, he felt outnumbered and wholly uncomfortable. 

“Garrus,” Castis caught his attention, taking a grip on his arm and speaking in hushed tones. “Breathe.”

His father was pressed against him, sub vocals low and soothing as the older male looked him steady in the eye and squeezed the arm he had a hold of. It helped a little. Still only halfway through their line, one of the security officers at the front stood on a crate, and beckoned them forward. The ex-C-Sec Officer panicked slightly, shaking his head once, sharply, before looking determinedly toward a nebulous spot on a far wall. 

The deflection failed entirely when each and every turian in their row parted for him, one by one, until the path forward was clear all the way to the gate.

He froze, uncertain of what to do. _ ‘Why had…?’ _

Castis began tugging him to the front by the grip on his arm, gentle but insistent. As they pressed forward he felt something brush his shoulder, instincts making him jump slightly as he looked for the cause.

A middle aged male missing half his horns and with burns on his face, just as bad as his own, locked eyes with Garrus before dropping his crest in a deep, reverent bow. He couldn’t hear it, but the male’s mouth moved to the words of a breathless ‘thank you’, 

Another set of talons brushed his opposing shoulder, the rail-thin elderly female withdrawing her touch timidly before trying to smile at him. _ ‘She was so small….’ _

“My daughter, s-she…  _ thank you.” _

Another, and another, and another... Most of them couldn’t even find the words as he passed their orbit only briefly on the way by. Speechless, he managed to do no more than glance at each of them before arriving at the security checkpoint, eyes wide. 

“Advisor Vakarian, please go on through, sir.”

With the final confirmation to the crowd of just who had passed them by, their second voices began to rise in a deep, thrumming welcome threaded with gratitude and respect, hopefulness and relief. One of the clan was  _ home _ , their sub vocals said. The whole was greater for the addition, they declared.

The sniper was glad his feet seemed to know how to walk forward without him. He felt… surreal.

Not quite understanding until now what he’d truly accomplished over the past few years, the normally snarky and cocksure turian walked through the biometric scanner pulled along by his father’s hand tugging his arm. Once clear of it, they carried on through to the space port’s main hall. 

A sense of solidarity hit Garrus like a charging brute. He was home. He was  _ home. _

Turians didn’t often show praise and thanks beyond promotions, medals and marks on their citizenship files. Open, verbal praise just wasn’t done… but at least a hundred souls had just sung for him. For... him.

His eyes started to sting when his father’s voice joined the crowd’s as they cleared the massive doors. 

They breezed through the remainder of the building and emerged into the main concourse where even more people were milling about, although in this space they had enough room to move. The thrum behind him had begun to fade, and for that he was grateful. Garrus didn’t know how much more of that he could have stood and still kept his composure. 

Thankfully, his face was not noticed quite so easily in the bustling crowds of the main concourse. Everyone out here was just looking to get where they were going, too distracted to notice them slip through toward the hole in the wall that was functioning as an entryway.

Castis’ guiding hand led them to a spare bit of space near a decimated section of topiary, omnitool coming out to check something. Messages, probably. 

The guess was confirmed a moment later when his father dismissed the haptic screen with a nod. “Solana’s here, she’ll bring the skycar around.”

Garrus set his luggage down and leaned back against the planter, using it to support some of his weight. His eyes slid closed, head dropping. He felt strangely exhausted, but also somehow invigorated. “Dad, what... what was that?” 

“A welcome,” he said shortly. “A welcome like I’ve never seen before.”

Swallowing his words, Garrus didn’t reply, hand reaching up to pull off his visor. He gripped it gingerly in one hand while palming his face with the other. He was trying hard to stay stoic and keep a bearing worthy of his most recent title, but all of this was getting to be too much. Garrus was crumbling no differently than the walls behind him, and this close to sanctuary it was getting hard to stay strong.  

“Just a few more minutes, son.” 

The tall sniper managed a failing smile for his dad as he replaced his visor, the older turian’s near-psychic perceptiveness suddenly easier to appreciate than ever before. Words were about as difficult as remaining poised right now.

The whirr of a skycar dropping down on the landing causeway nearby brought his gaze upward. The driver’s side door popped open, his sister more or less leaping out of the vehicle once it stopped, not even attempting to close the door before sprinting towards them. 

Wisely, he remained braced against the planter.

“Garrus!” Sol’s happy screech rang out as she came at him, only slowing down enough to keep from entirely bulldozing them both backward as she threw her arms around his cowl in a merciless hug. He knew from experience that his willowy sibling was stronger than she looked, but the hold still stole the breath from his lungs. Strangely enough, it helped. 

Her light grey brow pressed to his firmly, an overt display of affection uncommon for her. Sol’s smile was a thousand miles wide as her eyes closed into the gesture, sub vocals a disbelieving hum of ‘ _ you’re alive _ ’.

She’d known he was alive and well. They’d talked on vid plenty of times… but sometimes the heart didn’t care. Here and now, smell and touch, he became real.

He understood.

“Sol…” Garrus breathed, arms wrapping around her small cowl as if she were a life raft.

The siblings held each other tightly for a few moments before the younger pulled back, cocking her still-healing leg to the side as she gave her brother a long look. He quirked a mandible into a half smile, shrugging with arms open to her. Not quite sure what to say.

Castis broke the stalemate, bending to pick up Garrus’ duffle. “Ready to go home?” he asked.

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

Solana clicked her tongue, as if he was stating the obvious like a moron. It didn’t cover up her haywire sub vocals dancing into the air with joy and relief at his presence, but the attempt made him smile. The day his sister stopped being sarcastic was probably the literal end of the world. He shook his head and took up his rifle case, his own harmonics rolling back at her with tones no less overwhelmed and loving. 

He gave her a lopsided smiled, feeling less mentally undone with his indefatigable sibling here to mock him at the slightest provocation. 

Castis took the driver’s seat, Sol taking the back with him instead of sitting up front with their father. In typical sisterly fashion, instead of taking his hand or hugging him some more, the Blackwatch agent threw her legs up on him like a footstool.

“So the house is in decent repair,” she began with a graceless gesture in the vague direction of their clan’s compound. “Which is damn lucky, because there are two other minor clans living in our guest wing. The first is a family of medical staff, so we basically only see them long enough to feed them before they pass out. The second? What a  _ fun  _ bunch.”

“Solana…” their father began from the front, but of course she talked right over him.

“ _ What? _ ” She bit out. “You haven’t been here for the past two weeks. They need to learn better hygiene working with all the heavy equipment repairs. Oil and grease,  _ everywhere _ ! So you know, G… don’t use the bathhouse in the main courtyard, okay? It’s so gross. I’ve got the tiny one in the gardens under lock and key though, and you can totally use that instead. The code is mom’s maiden name.”

Garrus made a guess that the main baths were just fine, and she was handing him an easy place to go spend time alone on a silver platter. He had to suppress his hum of gratefulness. It would give up her game.

“Also, I have work tomorrow, doing who knows what for the metropolitan utilities brigade, because they’re short on engineers… been awhile since I’ve muddled my way through that kind of thing, but most of what they need is super basic. Connect power line A to B, and don’t fry yourself. Easy enough, yeah?”

“Sounds straightforward… and important. How bad is the power grid?”

“It was atrocious last week, before we figured out some of the faults in the line in districts 4, 7 and 12, but it’s waaaay better now. Only have to run the generator an hour or two here and there.”

Garrus’ mandibles fluttered a little as the city flew by, Cipritine’s southern countryside coming into view. That was much better than he’d least read.  _ Good news _ . 

Solana continued on from there. Briefly giving him a heads-up about damage to their home, with invitations to talk crouched in demands to buy her lunch sometime. She mentioned several tidbits about places in the city that were good or bad to visit right now and Garrus listened intently, happy he didn’t need to speak much just yet. 

The stream of joking, positive, energetic words were their own kind of balm. Between it and the drive, he was just about ready to enter a wonderful coma for at least five hours, but he knew there was one more topic he needed to discuss with his sister. 

His bondmate. 

The sniper was half dreading and half excited to tell Solana about his relationship with Adrien. The decision to leave it a secret until he was able to see her in person had been discussed at length between him and his father.

“Sol… there’s something I need to tell you.” 

“Hm, what is it?” she asked, her curiosity bright. 

“I uh…” he coughed, catching the slight tilt of his father’s mandible in the front seat of the skycar. Although his dad said nothing, he could see the amusement.

Solana looked between the Vakarian males, understanding that there was something she wasn’t privy to going on. “Garrus?”

“I… I wanted to tell you earlier, but with the war and your leg and then the distance… I just...”

“Garrus, stop.” She sat up, taking her feet off his lap. Somehow understanding the seriousness of what he needed to say.

And he did stop, looking up from the hole he was staring into the floor. 

“What is it? Dad obviously already knows and seems to approve?” She looked towards their father, who nodded his agreement and hummed in acknowledgment.

“I do.”

The older sibling nodded once. “Right, well I’ll just… show you?” he said a little uncertainly, head tilting to the side as he pulled back the cloth of his tunic, exposing the bonding mark on his neck.

Solana’s surprised but happy trill was immediate. “Garrus! When did this happen?”

He smiled at her, embarrassed as he ran a hand down his crest. “About halfway through the war. From what Dad told me? Around when you evacuated from Palaven. Like I said, I wanted to tell you, it just didn’t really line up.”

“I get that,” she replied honestly. “So, in the middle of the war. Hm. That means it was someone you were fighting alongside?”

Nodding, Garrus tried to explain. “Sort of? We did until the war pulled us apart.”

“Who is it? No wait! Don’t tell me yet. Do I get to meet them?”

It was Castis who spoke up, chuckling at the rapid fire questioning from his daughter. “Solana, calm. You’ll meet him soon enough.”

“Him!” Solana said in disbelief, head whipping from Garrus to her father and back again.

“Yes, him.” Garrus admitted, a little taken aback. “Not that surprising is it?”

She acquiesced him that point. “Fair enough. You weren’t exactly picky before basic.” Garrus swatted at her with the back of his hand and she dodged underneath it. “Alright, alright. I’m a little surprised. After that recon scout you brought home from your first tour I was kind of expecting a sister not another brother, but I suppose I’ll learn to deal with it.”

“I’m sure the two of you will gang up on me just fine regardless.”

Laughing, Solana relaxed back into her seat. “I suppose we will. When do I get to meet him? Is he here, on Palaven?”

The smile that crossed Garrus’ face was soft, his shoulders dropping as he leaned forwards with his elbows on his knees. “Yeah. He’s here. Coming by after he’s finished for the day.”

“How exciting!” the younger sibling replied. “What time?”

Garrus’ head cocked to the side, considering timings and needing to translate in his head from Citadel Standard to Cipritine time. “Eight? I think.”

“That sounds about right,” Castis agreed from the front, hands back on the vehicle’s controls as they were approaching their destination. “Enough time for you to rest first, Garrus.”

“I made up your room, G. We’ll wake you for dinner?”

He groaned, crest dipping backward for a moment as he looked upward, rubbing his brow. Something of a countermeasure to face-planting into the front seats this very instant.

“Yes. Absolutely. That sounds  _ amazing _ .”

Hopefully his nerves let him sleep, then eat, so he had the energy to do more than gesture vaguely at Adrien as an introduction before stealing him away.

+-+-+-

It was half past six when the doorbell rang. Solana looked up from the vegetables she was chopping in the  _ Caman _ , head tilted in slight confusion. They hadn’t been expecting Garrus’ mate until eight. 

“Maybe he’s early?” she hummed to herself as she wiped off her hands and headed for the door. Thankfully, for as sprawling as their property was, the door wasn’t far from the heart of the home. Sol left the  _ Caman _ , took the veranda around the central courtyard to the main hallway, and turned down it just in time to see her father starting to leave his office door from the opposite corridor. She waved to show she would get it and carried on. Her father had looked like he needed the rest as much as Garrus did when they got in, she’d already shooed him once that evening.

She checked the security screen out of habit; a single turian stood outside the door. Waiting patiently, it seemed. She didn’t immediately recognize him, but it  flooded in when she opened the door and she saw his face straight on. The clean, white Cipritine markings that greeted her were very familiar.

“Primarch Victus?” her stunned expression and tone obvious. Glancing behind him as nonchalant as possible, she was surprised to not see any guards. Not even the telltale shimmer of a cloaked watcher.

“Solana Vakarian, I presume.” He smiled down at her, his form towering. His height would rival her brother’s, if not dwarf it. “ _ Etnul sodaloport nostrari _ .”

The youngest Vakarian blinked twice, nodding that yes, she was Solana. Her voice came back to her as she cleared her throat. “ _ Amicinula utintrarus _ , Primarch. Please come in. What can I do for you, sir?”

“I had heard your brother was returning to Palaven today. Or am I too early?”

“Of course, yes... he is, or well... did. He’s here. Resting right now, but I could get him for you?”

His expression changed slightly, looking almost...  _ relieved _ ? Solana couldn’t quite tell, she was too busy telling herself to get a damn grip. 

“Perhaps I could wait for him, then?”

“Of course. There’s a sitting room that looks over the garden that’s blooming this season. Partially shielded, if that would suit?”

“Perfectly,” his handsome smile beamed down at her.

“Allow me to lead the way then, Primarch.”

Stomping her starstruck down into the dirt with a combination of professionalism and recalcitrance, Sol took him straight down the main hallway, and then left toward a shortcut that would avoid the guest wing entrance. She didn’t particularly care to show off his presence to their visitors.

Back two more corridors, and they emerged into a section just outside the clan wing of the  _ maldis _ . The beautiful solarium was enclosed by glass walls that faced out towards the fall blossoms and a small pond. The room, while small, was well outfitted a few wicker chairs, a matching glass topped table and a reclining lounge that rested against the far wall.

Her attitude somewhat back in place and thoughts straightened, she gestured toward the padded chairs while heading for the sidebar. 

“Can I get you anything, sir?”

“Whatever is easy would be fine. I wouldn’t say no to something to eat…I didn’t get much of a lunch today.”

Solana hummed, acknowledging his request as her mind presented the first hint of a stray theory as she gathered a small variety of dried snacks onto an empty, waiting serving tray for just such occasions. Snagging cool bottled water instead of something warm, she brought the lot of it to the glass-top kava table and took a seat one chair over from him.

“My brother reported to you on the Normandy, didn’t he?” she began, conversationally.

Victus hummed in agreement. “He was my most trusted Advisor. I’m pleased to hear he’s home safe.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, sir, why are you here? He’s not ready for work.” Her voice was carefully gentle, it wouldn’t do to insult a turian of his standing. 

His mandibles pulled tightly to his face as he considered the question. Looking somewhat distraught at her assumption.

“I suppose you haven’t had much time to talk,” Victus suggested after some thought, and she nodded in agreement. “Garrus is a friend as much as he was an advisor to me. Though I would love for him to be at my side in the office, today I am here on personal business, not galactic affairs.”

Curiosity burned at Solana, but it wouldn’t be polite to pry. She knew that Victus had a son, and that meant he’d a mate, too. She didn’t know the Primarch at all, so his tones were difficult to discern. Her Blackwatch skills weren’t much use with a turian so practiced at hiding their emotions. 

So instead she simply said, “I see.”

She was saved from further small talk by her father’s appearance.

“Primarch Victus, _ loramici intratar rekescatius, _ ” Castis offered graciously, the formal welcome of an  _ expected _ guest rolling off the tongue, sub vocals warm and familiar

Solana squinted at them.

“ _ Espectat utamici tibitias agimetran,  _ Castis. It’s good to see you again.”

_ ‘Interesting’…  _ Solana thought to herself, looking between the two of them with just her eyes.

“I suppose you’ve come to see Garrus?” the elder Vakarian stated.

“I have. Your daughter said he’s resting, I wouldn’t want to intrude.” This time, the Primarch failed a little at hiding his disappointment for the wait.

_ ‘... he did not.’  _ Solana's suspicion was nearing certainty now.

“I think he’d rather be woken. You can follow me, Primarch.” Castis’ mandibles flared in a smile. 

“Please, both of you, it's Adrien,” he corrected. “If you wouldn’t mind?”

“Of course.” Her father led the Prima… _ Adrien _ , out of the sitting room and down the hallway leading to clan quarters. Solana followed a half step behind them, her natural inquisitiveness getting the better of her.

‘ _... he  _ **_did_ ** .  _ Garrus Vakarian, I am going to throttle you for not warning me. _ ’

Solana ignored the fact that she’d requested the surprise.

The hallway wound them around the fully shielded courtyard that she and Garrus had played in as fledglings. Their plates still too soft to play in the actual sun, both their parents had wanted them to be able to enjoy as much nature as possible before leaving for postings where they may never get time outdoors. The extra expense had been happily paid by the clan. Castis could be very convincing when he needed to be. 

Their feet were fairly quiet, only the occasional clicks of toe talons breaking the silence on the warm stone floors. Their boots were left at the archway leading into clan quarters. Clan photos spread across the walls here instead of the more formal artwork and tapestries in the front rooms. She caught the Primarch’s eyes on a few of the ones that included Garrus when he was younger, the half smile on Adrien’s face just as telling as her father’s greeting.

The solidified realisation that her brother was probably mated to the Primarch of Palaven left Solana stunned, impressed, and disbelieving in equal measures. Garrus continued to be full of surprises.

Stopping at his son’s door, Castis turned to the newcomer. “We weren’t expecting you for another hour or two. Otherwise he wouldn’t have slept.”

“He needs it,” Adrien replied without missing a beat, defending her brother needlessly. Then he became almost hesitant. It didn’t suit him. “I… I should let him rest. I left the office early. Should have known he’d need some time.”

Her father’s hand closed over the Primarch’s shoulder, smiling with warmth as he gave an  encouraging sideways nod towards the door. “I think he’d rather you be with him.”

Victus nodded, humming in almost timid agreement. “Perhaps you’re right.”

Castis opened the door, allowing the Primarch to walk past him. He closed it once he was inside, giving them privacy for their apparent reunion.

“Dad…”

“Solana?” he replied in the same tone before chuckling and tossing his head in the direction of the  _ Caman _ . They were halfway there before he spoke again. “You have questions, I’m sure.”

She hummed agreement. “Too many. Is… was that what I think it was?”

“And what did you think it was?” he asked, looking entirely too pleased with himself when she  turned sideways to give him a flat look, sub vocals unamused. “Alright, alright. Let me explain what I know. Your new brother is indeed the Primarch. He and Garrus worked closely together before the war, when your brother was assigned the task force.”

“That long!”

“No,” he shook his head once to cut her off. “As Garrus described it, they were friends until they were stationed on the  _ Normandy _ together for the peace talks with the krogan. He said it was a bit of a flash flood in how it all came together, but I’ll let him tell you the details.” 

“So wait… in between brokering peace he managed to get himself crest deep in a relationship with the leader of our people? My socially awkward, forgets to eat but never forgets his damn visor, can’t keep his mouth shut brother?”

“Solana,” he said with a hint of reprisal in his sub vocals.

“What! It’s true. Give Garrus a gun and he’ll hit the target, but ask him to make small talk with the cute next door neighbour? He turns into a bumbling mess, panics and makes a run for it.”

Castis tried to suppress a chuckle at her description. “You’re... not wrong. Perhaps that’s part of his charm?”

+-+-+-

Adrien stepped into his mate’s room, hearing the door slide closed behind him and the muffled voices of his family fade into the distance. In the peaceful stillness of the room he could see dust motes floating in strands of sunlight from the covered windows. The only sounds were those of Garrus’ quiet sleeping purr and his own breath.

The room was generously sized, appropriate for a scion of an ancient clan living in a sprawling, traditionally styled  _ maldis _ . Even in the dim light he could see that it was well-appointed, the bed large enough for two to sprawl without even touching one another. The turian styled nest was piled with pillows around the edge in warm browns and cool greens. Tables sat on either side, made from an ashy coloured, birch-like wood, one holding the ever present visor. Silver grey wood panelling covered the back wall, while the others were painted white to offset the dark accents. 

Deep green curtains were drawn over the window, but from the brief glimpses of the compound’s layout he was fairly sure they would open up to a view of the back gardens, it was traditionally the space that would bloom in the winter. A desk made of more birch sat against the opposing wall, a bulletin board above it smattered with pictures, articles and schematics.

It was more elegant and modern than he’d normally associate with his mate, but… it suited him. Maybe another had decorated the space on his behalf? Adrien chuckled into the still air, fairly certain of the guess. Garrus would have painted everything grey to be done with it and spent the time on work instead. 

His talons clicked against the stone floors as he took a few paces closer to the bed. Adrien knew the hesitation was unnecessary, Garrus had made it clear he was wanted, but he couldn’t help feeling like he was intruding. His mate needed rest. Still, he wanted to touch him. Needed to reassure himself that the sight before him was real, not another dream filled with longing.

Want for touch outweighed his tentativeness.

Adrien took the last few paces to the side of the bed, looking down at his partner a moment, savoring the view. Deciding to forgo hesitation Adrien removed his tunic, leaving himself in his undershirt and dress pants, before sliding under the sleep warmed covers. The relaxed feeling that came over him as he breathed in Garrus’ scent made him hum with appreciation.

Sliding closer, the Primarch wrapped his body around the other turian’s. Garrus didn’t wake or react beyond an annoyed grunt when he was lightly jostled. Pressing his forehead to the sniper’s neck, Adrien hoped it was his scent that was allowing his mate to stay asleep. He had this… concerning habit of overworking himself, pushing too hard. Maybe it wasn’t that this time, perhaps he was still recovering, but it was too reminiscent of the long nights and longer days the war had taken from them. 

Adrien wanted that particular part of their lives to be over, but how to start when he himself was still working long hours… he huffed, dismissing the thought in favor of exploring his mate’s angles.

One hand slid from the crest of his hip, along his thigh to rest comfortably just above his knee. The thin fabric of Garrus’ pants didn’t hide his too-thin frame, nor the prominence of his bone structure. Adrien pushed in closer, grasping a little tighter. Garrus had said he’d gained some weight back already... the thought of how thin he must have been two weeks ago was frightening.

The additional pressure of grasping talons against the younger turian’s shoulder and thigh, and the press of the Primarch’s nose against the back of his neck disturbed Garrus enough to draw out another noise of complaint, but this one was louder, and accompanied by the drop of his sleeping purr.

Damning himself for his neediness, Adrien watched his mate come back to consciousness. 

It was slow at first, a relaxed intake of breath followed by a flex of his shoulders. The solid form behind him seemed to cause him very little alarm. Adrien nosed into warm neck hide, sub vocals rolling out with affection and mate-claim, leaving his scent where he touched. Better to be instantly recognized, rather than startle Garrus as his faculties came alive. 

“Mmmmn… Adrien?” Garrus hummed in sleepy approval, rolling over to encircled him in his arms. The muzzy, happy surprise on his face well worth the presumption of crawling into bed with him.

“Hello, love.” 

The Primarch might have said more, but he was cut short by mouth plates on his own. A hand on his mandible, and the other on the back of his neck pulling him in. Relinquishing control entirely to his mate, he shared reverie openly with him. The wavering keen of need from Garrus’ chest was soothed by his own voice, humming reassurance and love.

The rush of endorphins that flooded his system as the hormone cocktail took hold were overwhelming. Tongues battled with one another, not for dominance, but just because they could. The weight and weariness of his daily grind to restore their people evaporated, yielding to make way for security and warmth. His partner moved to kneel over him, needing to be closer.

Intensity only grew as hands trailed over his half clothed chest, sliding under the shirt to push it up and reveal his muscled abdomen. Hips ground down into his own, and he reciprocated as he thrust upwards. The growl that left his chest was possessive and needy. His own hands grasping at shoulders, needing something to hold on to. 

Garrus’ tongue slid across his teeth, tangled with his own tongue, and then stroked along the glands at the back of his throat. Apparently their time apart had not lost him any of his skill. Adrien was getting dizzy from breathlessness, so he pulled away slightly. Instead encouraging the younger male with a hand on the back of his neck, guiding him to lick and bite at his mandible before sliding down to his throat and bondmark. 

He clung to his partner for dear life as he teased the scar, his gasp and subsequent shiver only encouraged Garrus further. Insistent in his quest to make him moan, he bit down and then soothed the bite with a long lave of his tongue. 

Adrien was home.

It took being here, underneath his partner in a sleep warm bed that wasn’t his own, to make him finally feel at peace. He opened eyes he didn’t remember closing to gaze at his partner. A knuckle on his chin encouraging him to look up, talons sliding gently across his damaged mandible to pull them together. Needing to lock his golden eyes with glacial blue.

“Welcome home,” he said in a whisper.

“I think I could get used to this,” Garrus replied through a yawn, his crest coming down to press against Adrien’s. 

“Used to what?”

“Waking up to you.”

Adrien couldn’t help his breathy laugh, he was so happy to hold his mate in his arms. The giddiness in his chest was unbecoming of a Primarch, but he couldn’t care less. A quick thrust of his hips upwards had them tumbling over so that he was seated between Garrus’ legs. Ever the eager one, the limbs wrapped around his waist and squeezed lightly. Enough to draw a groan. His own hands roamed across bare chest, memorizing every inch over again. Tracing the seams of his plates and the lines of his scars first with gentle talons and then his tongue. 

Just enough pressure to make Garrus shiver.

“Adri-nhhhhhg...” he half moaned before clearing his throat. His second try at words a little better. “Adrien, can we talk?”

Although he hummed an affirmative, he didn’t relent. Instead redoubling his efforts lower, nearly down to his seam now. He pulled the sleeping pants down and out of his way. “About what, love?” he prompted between nips.

“That’s… mh… not fair.”

“Not meant to be.”

“Ha… yeah, oh. Okay.” Hips bucked against him and Adrien grinned against his lover’s hide. Enjoying every second of this sweet torture. “You’re here.”

“I am.”

“You cannnn… uhgn don’t stop… stay?”

He was at his seam now, holding his plates shut with one hand while the other held his hips still. 

“If you’ll have me,” he drew out the last word, the hum carrying through his tongue to the warm, damp hide below him. Hands grasped for his shoulders, tightening on the light undershirt that was still bunched high on his chest. 

“Spirits. Anything. Just, just don’t stop.”

The rumbling chuckle only added to the intensity. The vibrations rolling through his partner and encouraging his own vocalisations. “Done talking?” he asked and when he heard Garrus’ wavering acknowledgment he finally released his plates, allowing his length to escape. “Good. Then let me take care of you.”

One strong lave from base to tip had him keening, straining against the hold Adrien had on his hips. Questing lower he mouthed across his entrance, tongue probing inside the spread plates making him gasp. It took very little oral effort on his part, and Garrus was putty in his hands. The more difficult task was keeping him still. 

It hadn’t taken much practice for him to find the ways that Garrus like to be touched. A gentle hand stroking, alternating the pressure as he moved from base to tip. He liked to be licked, and didn’t fear teeth. He trusted him implicitly. 

Before long he was panting, asking for release. 

“Ad… need… just a little more. Please. Oh… spirits... don’t stop.”

Adrien didn’t have it in him to make him wait. His soothing hum accompanied his words, “Come for me, love.” Movements sped up, he used just a little more pressure with his hand, his tongue licking insistently at the head of his partner’s length. 

It took another minute, but when Garrus came his back bowed and his moan filled the room. 

Adrien slid up his partner as he came back down. Coming to rest beside him on the bed, pulling the younger male to his chest. Needing the proximity. Appreciating how Garrus curled into his side as he shivered through the aftershocks. Trembling hands grabbed onto his chest and his head nuzzled into his shoulder.

“Quite the welcome home,” he said through laboured breaths. 

A rumbling laugh greeted him, the vibrations tumbling out of his chest as he pulled the sniper closer. Hating how frail he felt in his arms. “Well deserved.”

Garrus tilted his head upwards on the Primarch’s chest so he could look up at him. His expression indiscernible. “I don’t quite understand why,” he said in a quiet voice.

“Why not?” Adrien asked in reply, not knowing where that had come from. 

Mandibles pulled tight into his mate’s face, head ducking away. “I just… don’t.”

The Primarch slid his hand from his mate’s shoulder down his arm and back up again. It took a few more rounds before he felt the tension start to dissipate.

“At the spaceport,” Garrus began, his muscles tightening under Adrien’s hand. The older turian prompted him again, a calming hum asking him to continue. “We, Dad and I, were at customs… someone recognized me.” He flicked a hand at his face. “I’m hard to miss.”

“Garrus…” but was rebuffed with a small growl.

“It’s true.”

He swallowed his words. Arguing wasn’t going to help. Regretfully, he remembered when Garrus first brought up his scars, and his reply saying he could look past them. He hated himself for not thinking of a better way to articulate himself back then. For not finding a way to tell him he thought he was handsome not just despite his scars.

The lingering silence begged to be filled, and Garrus complied. “They treated me like a war hero. Sang praises like you read about in old novels about the Unification wars. One even touched my shoulder… a…. a burn victim.” The unsaid  _ like me _ was obvious to Adrien. “They all did after he started it.”

“That’s a very old form of reverence, love. You earned it.”

Garrus pushed off him, sitting a short distance away with still shaking hands grasping at his crest. “I don’t… I just…” he keened, unable to find the words to express himself.

Victus followed him, wrapping one hand around his cowl while the other slid along his mandible. “Look at me, Garrus. I  _ know  _ you don’t think of yourself as a hero, and you don’t have to. But things like this aren’t going to stop happening. You’re arguably the most recognizable turian in the Hierarchy right now. Palaven blue colony markings from your clan? Towering height, unique eyewear? Even without the scars they’d see you.”

“But…”

“Hush,” he prompted, squeezing his hand a little tighter on his cowl. “I have you in my arms, your people adore you, your family is safe. All is well, my love. Just let it go. Let it be what it is.”  

It was the younger male that gave in this time, mouth to his partner’s asking for entrance. The elder relented without question, hormones helping soothe him as much as they would his partner. It had been a stressful few months and coming down now was just as rough as being at the top of it.

“I missed you,” Garrus breathed into his mouth. 

The hand on his mandible drew him closer, his thumb brushing along his cheek. Adrien telling him the same as he kissed him harder. When they finally needed to breathe again they pulled apart only as far as they had to, an unspoken agreement that distance was unwanted on either side. Cheek ridge brushing along his, Garrus held his hand as if he’d evaporate if let go. Adrien couldn’t say he didn’t understand the feeling. He pressed back into the contact, throat tight.

“I almost... lost you.”

“You didn’t.”

Adrien shook his head, choking back a keen. “That was one of the worst months of my life, Garrus. It was Kalla and… and Tarquin all over again.”

“Hey…” Garrus comforted, the roles suddenly changing. “I’m right here.”

“I’m still trying to wrap my mind around that. I thought….” He cleared his throat, restarting, “I thought you were gone. But there was so much riding on me. Everyone looking at me to tell them what to do. I… I didn’t want to do it alone. I just wanted to take a ship and run.” His shoulders were tight, the stress finally coming to a peak.

“But I came back.”

“You came back.” He nodded.

“I’m not leaving, Adrien. Not as long as you want me here.”

“Always. I want you always.”

Garrus gave him a small smile, mandible quirking to the side with a fond gaze. He pulled Adrien’s hand to his mouth, holding it steady for a small kiss. “Good, because you’re stuck with me. Shepard doesn’t need me on his six anymore.”

“I suppose not. I think I’m going to enjoy having you on mine instead.”

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he smirked, raising a brow plate suggestively. “In more ways than one, I’m sure.”

That made Adrien laugh, the last dregs of stress breaking apart. His shoulders finally releasing the long lasting tension. 

His heart full. There was no more that he could ask for. He was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Truly a group effort on this one. Garrus needed this chapter done right.


	18. Settling in at Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Solana and Castis finish dinner, Adrien and Garrus take some much needed alone time. Even a Primarch has needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh... we didn't get to dinner yet. Whoops? Enjoy a little more story in the meantime! And Solana's new Beau. <3
> 
> Big thanks to these lovely authors:  
> [ **Kuraiummei**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuraiummei/pseuds/Kuraiummei) and [**Spicy_Gnome**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Spicy_Gnome/pseuds/Spicy_Gnome): For the beta read!

Castis couldn’t help the amused quirk of his mandibles as he walked alongside his daughter towards the  _ Caman _ . She was muttering under her breath about how ridiculous her brother was and he couldn’t really blame her. Garrus had surprised him just as much when he’d first found out about them in Adrien’s office.

At the time he hadn’t expected that they were mated, just in a committed relationship that might one day lead to more. From the Primarch’s pained and concerned expression he knew there was something going on, but he couldn’t have known the extent of it. The war had thrown so many things into disarray. 

“ -ad… Dad?”

He was pulled from his musings by his daughter’s voice. “Hm… sorry, say again?” 

“I said you look like you could use a little more rest, don’t worry about dinner,” she smiled up at him. “I’ll finish up.”

“You’re cooking for how many?” he asked instead, raising a brow ridge.

“Well one of the Melandras will be back to help soon if they aren’t already and...” her expression turned, mandibles pulled into her cheeks as she thought the question over. “Fourteen? Wait, no. I’ll have to message Tiran if he hasn’t sent one already and see how many of the family are going to be back.”

“It’s Tiran now?” Castis inquired with a hint of mirth. He’d seen how his daughter had looked at the eligible young male before he’d rushed off to the Citadel. He was part of the family of medical professionals staying in their  _ maldis _ since the war had ended. 

Ducking her head, neck flushing a light blue, Solana replied. “Maybe…”

“Well this one had best do things the proper way,” he teased as only a father could. “Adrien had the excuse of a galactic war, you on the other talon? Do not.”

“Dad!”

He chuckled, pushing the swinging double doors leading into the main cooking area open. Only to find that they weren’t alone, the turian in question, Tiran Melandra, stood in his kitchen. 

“Something funny?” The lone turian asked, his voice a deep, smoky baritone. The unassuming physician turned toward them as they entered, head quirked to the side in wordless inquiry. One elongated charcoal mandible was tilted in a soft smile as his vivid green eyes followed his daughter’s frame, hands unconsciously pausing mid-air, a section of stir-fry meat half sliced.

“Tiran,” Solana greeted with a sweet sounding trill, stepping around Castis to join the younger male at the island counter. “I didn’t realise it was your turn to come back early today.”

He smiled handsomely at her, white colony paint stark against the other male’s smooth charcoal plating. “Well it was supposed to be Reina, but there was a-” he paused to cough into his cowl, half turned and shoulder raised to protect the meal, “-vomiting incident and I begged off to shower and get a change of clothes.” The younger male turned towards him, a warm hum of greeting in his sub vocals. “Welcome home Mr. Vakarian, I trust the trip went well?”

“It did Doctor Melandra, thank you.” He looked between his daughter and Tiran, hiding his grin. The two of them had grown closer while he was away. When he’d last seen them they were companionable, now they appeared to be more comfortable than that. 

“Tiran, if you don’t mind, sir.”

_ Very  _ comfortable it seemed. “Of course. How’s everyone fairing? Your father back on his feet yet? Your sister?”

“Dad’s been doing better, managing to work half days now. Longer, if mom would let him. Alli is grumpy as ever, sick of bedrest and just wants to get her hands back inside someone...” he stepped back from the counter to cough again, this time into the elbow of his tunic. “Sorry, Alli’s the surgeon. Didn’t mean to get graphic.”

“It’s fine,” Solana replied placing a hand on his back, rubbing gently to help ease him through the coughing fit he was holding back. The war hadn’t been kind to him, smoke had damaged his lungs while he fought to save his patients from a fire during one of the earlier evacuation waves. His care delayed too long while he triaged and dealt with them first, using up medical supplies on those who were in dire need of care.

Once he settled, she turned away towards the stove. Glancing over her shoulder at Castis, Solana went on as though it hadn’t happened. “Believe me... we’ve heard worse.”

His daughter’s voice was purposefully teasing, but his came out no better, “My fault, I will admit.”

“Right, police family,” Tiran nodded and hummed his understanding. “Anyway, looks like ten of us tonight. Gralga and Pelen are on the night shift, they tried to get out of it but the hospital needed bodies and those two came up on the on-call list.” 

Castis looked around the room as the others talked, dinner seemed to be well in hand so instead he took it upon himself to start laying the table. Carefully, he fetched enough dishes for fourteen mouths: twelve adults and two fledglings. 

Passing through the doors, he walked down the short artfully decorated hallway. It was on the clan side of the  _ maldis _ , as such pictures lined the walls instead of formal artwork. His eyes caught on one picture in particular, a young Garrus and Solana hanging from the branches of a tree. They appeared to be imitating some of the primates they’d seen at the Citadel’s small zoo. He remembered that trip fondly, his daughter’s first time on the station. 

Shaking his head, he continued on.

The ex-C-Sec investigator was pleased that his children were finding their way despite the hardships life had thrown at them not only with the war, but in family life as well. It had always been just the two of them; most turian families having at minimum three children and most having five. And then they’d lost their mother so young in life, he hadn’t lost his own until well after he’d had children. Thinking back, he must have already been sixty before his father passed at the ripe-old age of one hundred and thirty.

When he returned from the adjacent room the conversation had moved on to Tiran’s second sister. 

His daughter sounded a little concerned. “Voss is coming?”

“Yeah, she bargained with Pelen. She  _ really  _ wants to meet this hero brother of yours,” Tiran grinned and gave Solana a knowing raise of his brow. But her expression swung and she snickered. 

“What’d she give up?” Solana asked, mandible flared in a half grin.

His head tilted back so he could look at the ceiling, looking as if he was trying to stave off another fit. “She’s got his laundry duty for a week. And Pelen has been working with a group of fledglings that caught a really bad stomach virus,” he saw the concern on Solana’s face and backpedaled. “The kids will be fine, his clothes? Not so much.”

“Ouch. She’s going to be wishing she hadn’t done that.”

Tiran laughed at Solana’s exaggerated wince. “Why’s that?”

“Garrus seems to have snuck a bondmating in while he was off saving the galaxy.”

Whistling in surprise he looked from Solana over to Castis. “Congratulations are in order then?” he asked carefully, appearing to not know what the appropriate reaction was. At the elder Vakarian’s nod and slight smile he relaxed. “Well who’s the lucky turian then… wait… turian right? Sol, you said he was serving on a human ship…. Er… right?”

The awkwardness reminded Castis too much of his own son at that moment.

“He was on a human ship, but yes, turian.” She looked to her father, “Dad?”

Castis tilted his head in consideration. “Perhaps we should check with them first, but I suppose it’s going to get out eventually.”

“At the least I’m telling Tiran,” she informed her father in such a way that he felt as though he was talking to his mate again. Like mother, like daughter.

“I don’t think Garrus will mind, go ahead.”

The charcoal plated male turned his attention back onto Solana as he crossed the small space between them to lean against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest. “Well?” he asked, a grin firmly on his face. “Let me in on it.”

“Phhfttt…” Sol shoved his arm. “So nosey.”

“Come on, Sol… please.”

Castis finished grabbing the utensils and turned away, allowing the two of them a bit of privacy. 

“Hmm… I don’t know,” Solana hummed back at him. “You need to earn it…”

The cough from Tiran wasn’t caused by his lung issue this time, it was more of a panicked surprise at her forwardness in her father’s presence. Castis held his chuckle down and left the room again, deciding the glassware could wait a few minutes. 

He rounded the corner to the dining room, taking his time placing bowls and utensils out at each place setting. The antique table was large enough for twenty comfortably, up to forty if they added leaves, so he kept the settings closer together at the end nearer to the  _ Caman _ . Intentionally not setting a place at the table’s head. 

Traditionally, he would have sat at the head of the table, or his mate would have if she were still alive, and the Primarch would have sat at the opposing end. Additional guests added until the table was appropriately filled. But this wasn’t a dinner with the Primarch, this was a dinner with his son’s mate. 

Sliding his hand across the cool wooden surface, the retired C-Sec investigator sighed at the memories it brought. They’d rarely used it since the children had left for basic. It had been a much busier household in those years, his three remaining siblings living with them to raise children of their own in the clan  _ maldis _ . Castis had been the eldest of five, the second oldest brother had died in the first contact war. The other three, two brothers and a sister, had mated and as tradition they’d all gone through the nesting years together. 

Grief struck him as he remembered that very little of his family, beyond his children, had survived the war. 

Thus far Castis knew of two younger cousins, four of his nephews and one niece. And that was all. Most of the family had lived in inner Cipritine, the districts hardest hit by the initial wave of Reapers to make landfall. Those that had survived had been offworld at the time. It was a hard fact to swallow that because of their higher tier they’d been the first to perish. Despite all Garrus and his taskforce had done to try and protect them.

Truth be told, nothing could have prepared them for the Reapers. Regardless of best efforts.

Shaking his head, the clan leader cleared his mind of those he’d lost. Today was not a day for grief, that would come later once Palaven was closer to being whole again. 

Back in the kitchen Solana seemed to have finally given into her friend. Charcoal mandibles were slack, vibrant green eyes wide in apparent shock.

“...Really?” Tiran asked, incredulous. 

His daughter was too caught up laughing to reply. So instead he stepped in.

“I suppose Solana has told you then?” 

Clearing his throat and pulling his mandibles back up into a more neutral expression, he replied somewhat hesitant. “About the Primarch? Yes… yes she did.”

“I’ve messaged Garrus,” Solana told him once she’d calmed down. “Told him dinner’s at eight with the Melandras, and to let me know if he Primarch or  _ Adrien _ will be joining us.”

“Adrien…” the doctor said in quiet disbelief. “Spirits Sol, you’re on a first name basis with the Primarch of Palaven. That’s just…” he cut off.

Castis went back to fetching glasses. “I assume you will be too,” he hummed. “At least inside the  _ maldis _ . He’s not here as Primarch, but as my son’s mate. Solana’s brother.”

His daughter’s hand paused from stirring a moment before restarting. It was a… strange predicament to be in. He could understand that.

“It’s no worse than having a war hero for a brother,” she replied appearing to be rather decided on forgetting her nerves. “When we’re at home it’s no different. In public… well… we can figure that part out later.”

“Mhm. Alright,” the darker turian male agreed. “It’s a good thing you told me, I’ll try to help keep a sense of normalcy for their sakes. Spirits know they’ve had a rough couple months from what you’ve told me, Sol. I’ll do what I can.”

Her smile was soft and genuine as she thanked him. And Castis slipped out of the room, leaving them with just a few more minutes of quiet before dinner began.

+-+-+

A soft ping from Garrus’ omnitool woke him from his light doze against his mate’s chest. Rolling onto his back, he pulled the haptic interface up. The dim orange lighting illuminating Adrien’s, very awake looking, face. Yet again he’d been the only one to doze off. There was a single message waiting for him from his sister.

_ Dinner with the Melandra clan is at 8. Are we introducing Primarch Victus or Adrien?  _

_ -Sol _

“What is it?” The turian in question asked, rolling to his side and running a gentle set of talons across his faceplate. Garrus angled his arm for him to read. “Ah.”

“ _ Ah _ . Is right,” he groaned in response, closing the messaging system out and shutting off the screen. “Sol mentioned there were two clans staying in guest quarters. I’m guessing it’s the family of medical staff eating with us. She didn’t seem too keen on the other group.”

“I suppose Palaven will learn soon enough regardless. May as well make it be on our terms.” He smiled warmly, nuzzling his brow against Garrus’. “Besides, they’ll be so starstruck meeting you that maybe they won’t notice me.”

Garrus scoffed, shoving his shoulder gently, but didn’t pull away. “Why do I put up with you?”

Adrien laughed at his rhetorical question. Instead changing the subject. “She mentioned eight. We’ve got time to shower?” he trailed his free hand down his mate’s chest, spreading their earlier, half-dried mess around a little.

“Good plan,” the blue-eyed sniper pulled his sleeping pants the rest of the way off and carefully slid out of the bed. Once his feet were firmly planted on the warm stone floor he reached for the nightstand, turning on the small lamp and grabbing a ration bar from the top drawer. His fourth for the day.

Turning back to the bed as he opened the bar, he found Victus watching him, an unreadable expression on his face. Garrus made to say something but stopped partway through. Instead he took a bite and shrugged, single armed, before turning away and walking towards the door.

The sound of talons on the floor behind him came not long after. He stopped, waiting for the older male to catch up. Adrien’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, bare chest against his back. His head fell to the younger turian’s shoulder, asking for forgiveness with his sub vocals.

They stood in silence until he pulled away. 

“I’ll stop,” Adrien told Garrus.

“No. I… I get it. Or well… at least I can relate.” He half turned, grasping the Primarch’s talons in his own. “We don’t need to walk so soft around each other. I’m not going anywhere, okay Adrien?”

Adrien squeeze his hand, mandibles moving into a soft smile as he relaxed. “I know.”

The light grey turian’s neck flushed a bit blue as he ducked his head, just slightly embarrassed by the loving undertones in his mate’s second voice. He cleared his throat. “So… shower?”

Nodding, his mate prodded him on. Garrus opened the door and peered out into the hallway, checking both directions to make sure the coast was clear. 

“What are you doing, love?” Adrien asked with a small chuckle, stepping around him into the hall, completely naked.

Through another mouthful of ration bar, Garrus replied. “While I understand we’re going to be out in the open with our relationship?” he looked down at his sodden stomach and general nakedness. “I’d rather it be over dinner.” Ignoring his mate’s raucous laughter he led the way to the washroom.

Stepping inside he dropped the wrapper into the garbage before he turned to lock the door. Coding it with his standard personal encryption.  _ Overkill _ ? Yes. But it was quicker than writing something new. 

He glanced around the room, it was just as he remembered it from before the war. All the way down to the soap he’d left beside what he’d always considered to be  _ his _ sink. Baser facilities were hidden in small stalls along the left side of the room across from the bank of sinks that overlooked the western side of the property. 

On the right were the showers, the windows frosted over to let in light without allowing those outside to see in. A few stools sat under the countertop, above it mirrors and shelving that held plush towels. Against the far wall there were baskets with names plates on them, the utilised ones held the owner's name written in the traditional turian alphabet. At one time there had been a number of people living here, but now most of the baskets were empty.

“You grew up traditionally?” Adrien asked, coming up from behind him and placing warm hands onto his shoulders.

He hummed in agreement, looking back at him over his shoulder. “At it’s peak we had twenty-eight of us living together,” smiling at the memory of it he continued. “Mom didn’t have family, just dad. So his siblings, their mates, children. Dad’s parents. And his sister’s mated family all lived with us. Nearly filled the guest wing sometimes, and the family side was overfull.”

“And where did you rank?”

“Oldest of fourteen,” he replied taking his named basket with him before moving to start the water in the largest of the shower stalls. Placing the basket on its hook by the shower door, his hand passed under the stream until it warmed. “I uh… never asked. What about you?”

Adrien joined him in the oversized shower, the water misted over them both coming from dual shower heads. “Third of four males. The older two didn’t make it through the relay 314 incident. My younger brother mated a few years after I had Tarquin, and he started his mandatory service before his cousins were born.”

Garrus was about to apologize when he stopped him. “It’s an old wound, love. No harm done.”

He nodded, instead of using words he stepped closer bringing them together. Mouth plates careful in their quest to find their match. Without hesitation the Primarch relented, giving into the request for reverie and taking it in kind. 

+-+-+

Adrien’s hands slid up his mate’s arms, one coming to rest on the back of his neck and the other trailed down his spine to pull on his lower-back. He tugged him into his chest, possessive and greedy as he claimed the younger male’s mouth. His tongue exploring deeply inside, laving the glands at the back of his throat before grazing teeth on the way back out.

The brighter light of the bathroom hid none of the new scars, nor the stark change in physique. He’d thought his partner had impossible proportions before, but now they were worse. Hide pulled tight across bones, muscle depleted and unable to hide the sharp edges. He backed Garrus into the wall, holding him there with his body as his hands quested across the new angles. Paying particular attention to the still sensitive hide at his waist, he played over the crests of his hips then down his thighs. 

Surgical scars were patterned along the arm he’d injured so long ago, and there was a fresh pucker on his lower back where they’d replaced his kidney. He barely stifled his growl as his talons brushed over it. The thought of losing him to disease so young angered as much as it pained him. ‘ _ Starvation _ ,’ he hissed the word in his mind.

“I want you,” the golden eyed male declared when he’d finally needed to pull back for breath. His hands framed the younger’s head against the wall. Pinning him with his gaze. “Need you.”

Garrus was panting too hard to verbally reply, instead he nodded and stepped his legs further apart while leaning back against the wall for support. The picture he made, Adrien wanted burned into his memory. Steam surrounding them, pelvic plates loose and slick, chest heaving.

Adrien needed grounding. He needed his mate.

As he began working to loosen his partner’s entrance, he felt hands on him. One toying with the sensitive hide under his fringe and pulling their crests together to share the same breaths. The other caressed his own plates. Rapidly encouraging him to release from his sheath. 

He didn’t restrain himself, there was no need. His length fell into Garrus’ hand with a long groan. The feeling of being touched intimately after so long alone was overwhelming. He trembled in his mate’s arms. 

“I… I can’t…” he stifled a whine of need, steeling himself with a long shuddering breath. “Garrus, I can’t be gentle.”

The younger male nodded once, sharp and precise against him. “You don’t have to be.”

“You’re… sure? We can stop.”

“Positive.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

He smirked. “I won’t break.”

With that, he let go of his hesitation. Primal instinct taking over him all too quickly. He spun Garrus around, shoving him against the wall firm but slow enough that he could catch himself. Rough didn’t mean he needed to intentionally hurt him. One hand captured his hip, the other dragged along his pelvic plates, hard and unforgiving. His hand caught his length as it fell. A pleased growl falling from his throat at the strangled sigh from his lover.

His hips moved in time with his hand, thrusting against the swell of his ass, as he pulled Garrus closer towards the edge. Adrien’s mouth dipped down to cover his shoulder and nip and bite across the bondmark and scarred plating. He kept it up long enough to pull a long few moans out of Garrus. Until he was shaking in his arms. 

“Adriennnn... “ he panted. Eyes shut tightly, back pressing back harder into his chest.

He understood. One foot slid between his partner’s legs, knee pushing them further apart. His hands angled him more appropriately for the position, forcing his shoulders down slightly and his pelvis to tilt backwards. Thankful for the narrow, recessed shelf that provided Garrus with something to hold onto, he lined himself up and began to slide forwards. His attempt at being gentle lasted long enough for him to hilt.

It had been far too long since they’d been together. Garrus was tighter than he ever remembered. Evidenced by how his breaths near stopped as he continued on. The tension in Garrus’ tight body made him shake, his body screaming at him to keep going, to move, to… something.  _ Anything _ . 

“Ga… Garrus. Tell me when… nhn. Tell me when I can move,” he ground out through clenched teeth, talons tightening on his frail hips hard enough to bruise.

“Soon,” he gasped, trembling under his partner. “Just… oh spirits… fuck fuck fuck.”

Water continued to pour over them as they stood stock still. Harsh breathing and the sound of the spray their only company while they waited. Adrien managed to gain his faculties back enough to lessen his vice-grip, one hand coming up to rub at the younger male’s shoulders. He hummed comforts at him as well, the vibrations rumbling from his chest into his back as they were pressed tightly together.

“Oh… okay.”

The Primarch didn’t ask him for a second confirmation, he just began slowly pulling out. His second thrust in was quicker than the first. The third became a snapping of hips against hips, plates colliding hard enough to echo. And he lost his control entirely on the fourth. 

Pace increasing rapidly, plunging forwards without much regard for just how hard he was impacting his mate. He had warned him, he had permission, and he needed it. Needed this vicious clip to satisfy some small part of his brain that still wasn’t convinced Garrus was home and with him again.

He watched Garrus’ talons tighten on the tile, and felt him begin to push back into his thrusts. Once he was moaning in earnest, he let go. Head falling back as he set a punishing pace. The steam surrounding them. Fogging the room.

“Ahhh… don’t stop. Don’t stop. Mhn… please don’t stop.”

Adrien continued the bruising pace for a few more minutes before opening his eyes, tilting his head back down to see the droplets of water collecting on his mate’s still-strong shoulders. Rivulets of water cascaded down his cowl and dripped from the sharp edges of his mandibles and crest as he rocked with each thrust. He was a panting vision.

The white-marked turian thrust in hard one more time before slowing to a stop, his forehead dropping to rest against the light grey cowl. He took a wavering breath. Much more and he’d come too soon. He wasn’t ready to finish yet, he needed more. The younger male made him feel like an adolescent at times for how fast he could make him come. 

And stopping? Also gave him a chance to ensure he wasn’t being too rough, his sub vocals hummed the question as he didn’t trust his voice.

Garrus rolled his hips back in reply, tightening down and causing them both to groan. “Answer… ha... enough?”

Adrien chuckled against the back of his neck, nipping under his fringe. He caressed down the younger male’s thighs, he could feel them quivering. “Need to move?”

“Nnn… no. Just need you to fuck me.” His head twisted back as far as he could manage, Adrien meeting him in the middle to steal reverie from his mouth as he began to move again. The angle was uncomfortable, so the kiss didn’t last long. Although even the small taste reignited the earlier high. “Oh that’s it….”

Chasing the end now, he brought the pace back up. Moving hard and fast. One hand reaching around a thin hip to help pull his partner along. His body stiffening at the contact, it being just enough to send him tumbling over the edge. Splattering the shower wall, head thrown back in a strangled yell.

A few more clumsy thrusts had him following close behind. One hand still on Garrus’ hip and the other slammed into the wall to keep his balance as waves of pleasure rocked him. His back arched before he crumbled forwards, weight resting on his partner as he came down from the high.

He hadn’t the presence of mind to realise he was resting  _ all _ of his weight on the still-healing turian until it was too late. Garrus’ legs gave out from under him, sending them both crashing down to the hard tiled floor of the shower. Adrien attempted to cushion the fall, but he didn’t succeed. Plates made a particularly nasty sound as they impacted the wet, tiled ground.

“Shit-” 

“Owww-”

Dual-toned voices groaned in unison. 

“Garrus, fuck. I… I’m sorry. Are are you alright?” The older male asked in a concerned and still effort strained voice. He managed to get off of his mate, and helped him to sit against the wall. His chest heaving, eyes closed. Adrien palmed the water shutoff. “Garrus, love. Say something.”

Foggy blue-eyes opened. “I’m okay,” he said through clenched teeth. A few more steadying breaths and his eyes cleared a little. “Didn’t think… nhg… this is what they meant by fucking so hard you can’t walk the next day…” he flicked his right mandible into a sarcastic grin.

Adrien blew out a relieved sigh in response to his attempted joke. “Tell me next time, please.”

“Yeah,” Garrus agreed with a nod. “Rather not do that again.”

“Think you can stand?”

His mate hummed, considering it a moment before shaking his head. “Need a minute,” he admitted. The fact Garrus didn’t try it yet was telling, he knew where his limits were, and he normally pushed them. The fact he didn’t try, hit Adrien hard.  

He slide a talon across the faded blue paint on his cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

At Garrus’ nod, he stood up. Quickly fetching a few plush towels from the shelves above the counter. He also pulled out a stool to sit his blue-eyed lover on when he was ready to move.

When he returned, he wrapped the largest of the towels around the younger turian’s shivering shoulders. The water cooling much too quickly on his overexerted partner. A chaste touch of mouth plates was his apology for the wait. Silver plated arms wound around his cowl, crest pushing into his own as he nodded. He was ready.

Wrapping his arms around Garrus’ waist, he pulled him to his feet, at first taking all his weight as he walked him out of the stall backwards. The younger male’s feet were clumsy and unhelpful. Before sitting him down on the stool, he wrapped a second towel around his waist.

Garrus attempted to help, but Adrien brushed his hands away. A slight reprimand in his sub vocals that he followed up with an adoring hum. A kind of ‘ _ let me take care of you’ _ . Steel-blue eyes held his gaze a moment before he acquiesced.

Once his mate was dry, the stormy-eyed male toweled himself off as well. 

“Can you walk?” he asked quietly, pressing their crests together again. “I can go fetch us clothing if you’d prefer…”

He felt Garrus’ head shake against his own. “I’m better. Just tired.” He brought up his arm and flicked a few keys on the haptic interface, the panel beside the door switching to a brilliant green.

Adrien helped him up, moving to his good side and bringing his arm up over his own shoulder. As Garrus had done earlier, he checked the hallway before he pulled them out. It was blissfully empty. Once safety back in Garrus’ room he let him go, the younger male limping slightly as he made his way to a closet that Adrien hadn’t noticed earlier without the overhead lights on. 

His sniper picked through some of his old clothing, deciding on tight-fitting blue leggings that would hug his spurs and a warm looking, grey sweater that zipped up the front, a simple sleeveless white shirt underneath it. When he turned around, there was a small smile on his face. “Never thought my habit of keeping things around would come in handy quite like this.”

“How so?” he asked, searching for and finding his own clothes.

Garrus sat heavily in the desk chair, pulling on the pants first. “Last time I fit into these? I was a good fifteen years younger.”

Adrien flicked a smile at him, voice teasing, as he pulled his own tunic over his shoulders. “Are you trying to make me look like more of a nest-thief?”

Garrus’ expression fell by a half-measure. “I… I didn’t…”

Mentally, he smacked himself upside the head. He hadn’t meant to upset him, but it was like walking on clear ice. You never knew when it would break. 

He crossed the five or so paces from the bed to his mate, dropping into a crouch so he was level with him. “It was a joke, love. That’s all. I wasn’t thinking when I left for work this morning, I didn’t bring anything else.” His hand smoothed along his partner’s jaw, gently requesting that Garrus look at him. “I don’t care that you’re younger than I am. Does… does it bother you?”

Glacial blue eyes snapped to be captured by the golden storm. “No. I don’t care what anyone thinks. You’re no thief, Adrien.”

His smile was warm. “Oh I am, and I am also perfectly fine with that. Because it means that I get to be with you.” Garrus gave him a half-hearted chuckle, dropping his crest down with a quiet thunk against his own. “I will, however? See if I can’t find something less formal. If that’s alright?”

“You can try,” he replied, an arm directing him towards the open closet.

He stood again, humming as he crossed to peer inside. “I suppose, it’s a good thing we’re about the same size?” Picking through the shirts, he pulled out a few options. He settled on a plain navy-blue pullover that ended up fitting him fairly well, without making it appear as though he was trying to look years younger. It did, however, succeed in making him look a bit less stern. Less Primarch of Palaven.

Garrus had finished dressing and was typing something out on his omnitool by the time the Primarch checked his own tool and saw that it was nearing eight. 

“Ready?” Adrien asked, offering his arm.

The sniper took it, “Right behind you.” 

+-+-+-+-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter we get a little further on the timeline, I promise!


	19. Those who understand...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for a few acquaintances to be made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a huge round of applause for these two:  
> [ **Kuraiummei**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuraiummei/pseuds/Kuraiummei) and [**Spicy_Gnome**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Spicy_Gnome/pseuds/Spicy_Gnome): For the beta and writing assistance!
> 
> 100, 000 WORDS!! Ahhhh!!

His family arrived home, exhausted as usual, at precisely half past seven. Enough time to take quick showers before dinner to rid themselves of the day’s efforts. Medical work had been much messier since the war began, they were only now -nearly two months later- starting to get back to a sense of normalcy. The hospital wasn’t crumbling around them anymore, patients that could be released were. There was less anguish in the day-to-day operations. 

Critically injured patients from the war were either well on their way to mending... or... with the Spirits now. At least their suffering was over, if not their family’s grief.

Tiran took a long steadying breath, pushing thoughts of death far from his mind. He wanted… no,  _ needed  _ to make a good impression on Sol’s brother. The doctor was… slightly concerned about how well behaved his family was going to be. Especially with the day’s revelation. Not only was he bonded -which Voss was going to be furious about- but he was bonded to the spirits-damned Primarch of Palaven.

Leaning against the doorframe of the formal dining room, he stifled a cough. His head tilting back, crest between his cowl and the wall as he stared at the intricate vaulted ceiling, old wood beams supporting the roof structure. Artful as the rest of the  _ maldis _ , just another reminder of how much higher a tier her family was than his.

‘ _ Damn it!’ _ he cursed internally. ‘ _ I’m a doctor, not a-’ _

His thought was cut off when a hand suddenly touched his shoulder. Jumping, he flinched backwards, head snapping down to see Solana’s apologetic face staring up at him. She was freakishly quiet. It still unnerved him, even after living with her for over a month.

“Are you ok?” she asked, trilling comfortingly at him as she backpedaled. “I didn’t mean to spook you.”

He hummed back his own apology, stepping towards her to drop his crest to her shoulder. Thankful they were alone. “Sorry, I’m still not used to that. My family’s not so subtle.”

The lithe female grinned, pressing back against him with a purr of acceptance. “You never get used to it. Garrus can be worse... when he wants to be.”

“Really?” he asked, a bit aghast.

“Mhmmm. Sniper by trade. Only quiet when he wants to be though... which is the problem.” She grumbled a little, obviously recalling a situation long past. 

Tiran laughed, a teasing smile on his mandibles. “He out-spooks the spook?” She shoved his shoulder. And he let it drop. “So… the Primarch’s coming to dinner?”

Solana pulled up her omnitool, extending her arm so he could read the haptic interface. It was a reply from her brother.

_ ‘Adrien. On our way.’ _

_ -G _

“So…  _ Adrien _ ,” he corrected with a small encouraging smile, “is coming to dinner.” 

Solana groaned, face in her hands. “Why does he have to be so complicated?” she asked aloud, although it was obvious to him the question was rhetorical. Even if it hadn’t been? He had no answer.

The charcoal-plated turian pulled his lighter toned companion to his chest, rumbling a comforting note before pulling back to a slightly more respectable distance. One for friends, not lovers. 

Tiran had long since decided to let her take the lead with respect to the visibility of their relationship around her family. They were an ancient clan, one of tradition. So he knew the relationship would need to be approved of… although, -with the war- it seemed as though that might not matter as much anymore. Or at least… it hadn’t mattered to her brother. 

‘ _ Not that the Vakarian Clan would have refused him a Primarch. Spirits, I am out of my depth.’ _

Castis knew about them and seemed to approve, but he wanted to win Garrus over too. Both his siblings that had partners, Alli and Pelen, had introduced them to the family and made efforts to have them accepted. He  _ liked  _ Tenn and Reina. And he wanted Garrus to like him too, just as his family liked Solana.  

He and his family had been living with the Vakarians since the beginning of their relationship, they had known from the start. He’d never been good at hiding his feelings from his older brother, Pelen, and unfortunately for Tiran, Pelen had a loud mouth. It had always been that way, only worsening as he began working with fledglings as a pediatrician and then further with the births of his own two.

The Melandras had been over the moon with him. It was an ideal match for his Clan’s standing, one that would raise them up in -whatever remained of- the Hierarchy. 

An elbow to his side pulled him out of his head. “Sorry, did you say something?”

“Get out of that head of yours,” Solana told him before gesturing at the far side of the room where the door was just beginning to slide open. “They’re here.”

He looked over just in time to see two turian males appear at the entryway, arm in arm. Recognition came fairly quickly, but only because he’d been warned and waiting for them. Between their happy smiling expressions, their relaxed attire and easy companionship, he might’ve mistaken them for someone else. Or at the very least, the Primarch, if not his Advisor considering the scars. 

This first impression was... not what he’d expected.

Solana made the first move, meeting them at the halfway point in the room. Her hand pulling him along by the arm. 

“You’re looking better, G.” She told her brother, pressing her crest to his temple in friendly greeting. She hummed something into his ear that Tiran was too far away to hear before she pulled back.

“Right… sorry. Thanks Sol,” Garrus replied. His free hand rubbed the back of his fringe, almost as if he was embarrassed by his sister. And wasn’t that odd. A war hero, embarrassed.

“Adrien, nice to see you.” Her voice only slightly hesitated over the use of his given name and he smiled down at her. He’d heard the Primarch was tall, but seeing him in person showed him just how tall he actually was. A good half-a-head above his own 205 centimeters. 

“I’m glad to be here, and I wanted to thank you. For earlier. I apologize for the surprise.” He glanced at Garrus, squeezing his partner’s arm companionably with a warm smile. “From your expression I realised Garrus hadn’t told you yet.”

She grinned. “Oh, I’ll get him back for it. Don’t you worry.”

“So uh… who’s this?” The blue-eyed male asked, likely in attempts to get the attention away from himself. 

“Doctor Tiran Melandra, sir. It’s an honor,” he began to raise a fisted hand up to cover his left shoulder in a turian salute but when Solana stomped on his foot he stopped. Hierarchy training so thoroughly ingrained in him that he had forgotten himself, that he was supposed to be greeting his… girlfriend’s? brother and mate. The people, not the rank.

He coughed into his elbow instead in attempts to cover the blunder, and hummed a quiet apology towards Sol.

Garrus looked startled, but Adrien took it in stride. The older male stepped forwards and held out his arm, which Tiran clasped in his own. It was a more friendly greeting, the one he should have used in the first place. 

“A pleasure Doctor,” the taller male hummed, a smile on his mandibles as he released his arm and stepped back. He glanced between him and Solana, a question in his gold eyes, but said nothing more.

“Tiran please,” he offered, returning the relaxed expression. “The rest of my family will be here shortly and  _ Doctor Melandra  _ will only get you so far.” 

“I’d rather it we avoid Primarch tonight as well, Adrien is just fine.” He nudged Garrus with his elbow, prompting him out of his daze.

“Garrus,” the blue-eyed male said as he reached out and clasped arms with him. “Solana had mentioned your family was staying at the  _ maldis _ , how’re you finding it?”

“Not quite what I’m used to honestly, but your sister has been more than accommodating.” He half turned to the female in question, smiling fondly at her. 

“Sol...?” His head whipped back around at a half covered chuckled. The Vakarian male’s voice caught on her name, he covered his mouth to attempt to stifle the laughter. “My sister, Solana... accommodating?”

“Hey!” She exclaimed, crossing her arms over her keel as her mandibles fell into a pout. “Just because I don’t do it for you doesn’t mean I can’t be accommodating!”

“Riggghhhttt…” her brother dragged out the word. Teasing her more.

She threw up her hands, groaning in aggravation. “You know what? Just for that, you get to help me finish dinner. Come on,” she turned and made for the hallway leading to the  _ Caman _ , obviously expecting him to follow.

“Sol… wait up!” He called after her, when she didn’t stop he sighed. Turning to his partner he brushed his temple against the older male’s briefly. “I’ll be back,” he said quietly before following his sister. Just before leaving the room, he turned back. “And uh... nice to meet you Tiran.”

He and Adrien watched him go. When they were alone the younger male turned to the older, completely unsure of what he should say or do. 

The elder had it covered. “How long have you and Solana been together?” he asked with a knowing tilt to his left mandible.

“Uhmmm….” Tiran’s felt his neck flush and was thankful it went unseen due to his darker tone. A feature he only appreciated more as he aged. “We’re not…”

The Primarch raised his brow, but said nothing.

“Not... officially together,” the charcoal-plated male corrected, deciding to explain himself now and perhaps gain himself an ally to help him gain Solana’s brother’s approval. “We met during the war, on a refugee ship. I was working as the ship’s physician and when she and her father were picked up, Sol’s leg had been badly broken and between myself and my mother-”

Tiran stopped a moment to cough into his cowl, a real one this time. It was a harsh fit that left him a bit breathless by the end of it. The older male didn’t offer him assistance, he just waited patiently for it to end.

“-excuse me. My mother, Sheera, we got her fixed up.”

“Can I get you anything?” Adrien offered as Tiran cleared his throat of the residual ache.

“No, thank you. I’m fine.”

The Primarch inclined his head in understanding, instead moving to sit at the table while gesturing to the chair beside the one he’d taken. “And is that how your family came to live here?” he asked with what appeared to Tiran to be honest interest.

The younger turian took the offered chair, thankful for the elder’s tact. Though, considering his mate had something of a chronic condition as well, it made sense. 

“Sort of? We were stranded in the human system with the rest of the Hierarchy until the relays were fixed. We’d been split up then, I was working in the turian hospital in London but we kept in contact when the extranet lines were open. She uh… didn’t tell me what she was working on then.”

Adrien raised his hand to stop him. “I might’ve had something to do with that. My apologies.”

“I think I can understand why,” he glanced back at the door the siblings had left out of. “In your position I think I’d have done the same. Sol said it was over a month before they found him?” 

“Forty-one days,” Adrien offered solemnly before shaking his head and gesturing with the Hierarchy hand symbol for continue. “Enough of that. Your family was in the first wave to Palaven?”

“Second. We needed proper medical transport for one of my sisters, Alli, and my dad, Zen. Alli got injured in a skirmish during the final battle. And dad was hurt in the initial hit on Palaven when our-”  _ cough “- _ medical practice collapsed on top of us.”

“How are they faring?” 

Tiran hummed gratefully. “Better now, thank the Spirits. You’ll meet them tonight.”

The Primarch sat back in his chair, one foot propped onto his opposing knee. “I suppose you reconnected when you arrived back then?”

“Mmh. I’d been messaging with Sol and she met us at the spaceport with her aircar to help get us back home. When we arrived the uh… block? Was gone. I asked Sol to take us to a refugee camp but she refused and brought us all here.” He smiled at the memory, despite the fact his family home was gone it meant that he’d grown closer to Solana.

“Quite the tale,” Adrien grinned at him. “What did Castis have to say about that?”

Tiran chuckled through a small cough. “Absolutely nothing. In fact he’d done the same thing, one of the males who’d been working with him in security had also been found homeless.”

“Are they joining us as well?”

He all out laughed at the innocent question. “Uh no… Solana hates them. They’re mostly working in hard labour and machine repairs. A fair bit messier than my own clan. Two are still in their service years, their older brothers worked in construction so they pulled them along to the repair work until they’re called back to service. Between the six of them and my family’s fourteen it’s a busy  _ maldis _ .”

“Mhm. Garrus mentioned twenty-eight actively lived here during it’s prime years. I’m sure you’ll manage.” He smiled right along with him. 

It was surprisingly easy to talk to Adrien. The military leader didn’t make him feel out of place for being on a lower tier, nor did he seem to care for strict formality. If this was how their interactions were going to be then Tiran figured he could handle it. He just hoped Garrus was the same.

+-+-+-+

“Sol?” the tall sniper called out as he entered the  _ Caman _ , finding it empty. 

He glanced around, multiple serving dishes were sitting on the stone island countertop, a light stasis field flickered over the top keeping the meal warm. A blessed tool for larger families with too many mouths to feed. Walking further into the room, talons clicking against the warm stone floors he grabbed a  _ Siligur  _ bread roll from a basket near the heating unit. 

He’d just finished taking a satisfying bite when he heard a frustrated hum coming from the pantry. 

“Those are for din-” Solana half reprimanded before she stopped. “Shit.” Her expression dropped, arms falling to her sides and with them the boxes of quarian styled noodles fell to the floor. “Fuck… I didn’t… Garrus...” she growled in her frustration.

“Sol…” he began, trying to cut her off as he put the half eaten roll down and made his way over to her. 

“No. I just... fuck that was dumb.” She dropped her face into her hands.

When he reached her, he wound his arms around her cowl. “It’s fine, Sol. I should have waited.”

“No!” She dropped her hands to wind them around his back and thunked her head against his shoulder. “You can eat whenever you Spirits damn please. I’m sorry.”  

“Don’t be,” he hummed back trying to reassure her with his second voice that he wasn’t going anywhere. “Was actually kind of nice… just, you know… normal.”

He felt her mandibles move into a smile against him. “Pft. Only you, G. Only you would thank me for telling you off.”

“Hey,” he shrugged, squeezing her shoulders as he did so. “There are worse people to get told off by.”

The blue-eyed female pulled back, catching his matching eyes. “Like the Primarch?” 

“Uh… oops?” Garrus said, unconsciously tilting his head back in submission for his younger sister. The physical apology was as good as she was going to get. 

“You’re such a jerk for not warning me.”

“I know.” He pulled away then, and set about picking up the boxes she’d dropped. One had opened and spilled the contents around the grey floors. Solana joined him. “I wanted to tell you, I really did.”

Their hands met on top of a box. “I know, G. It’s ok. And, if it’s worth anything to you? I think you made a good choice. The Prim-  _ ahem-  _ Adrien is a good turian.”

“Thanks, Sol.” He smiled warmly as they stood back up. The engineer heading for the heating unit while the sniper disposed of the soiled noodles. “What did you need help with?”

He met her at the stove, grabbing the roll that Solana passed him when he leaned over her shoulder to see what she was doing. “You’ve always been better at these things-” she gestured to the boxes “-think you can handle them?”

“Been awhile since I’ve been in the kitchen, but yeah.” She slipped under his arm and left him to make the last part of their supper. Moving to do all the miscellaneous tasks that remained, from cleaning up a little to fetching serving utensils.

Garrus busied himself with his task, munching on the roll as he did so. It was gone in short order as was a second one that magically replaced the first once it was finished. He hadn’t really cooked much since Omega, on the Normandy he and Tali had eaten rations the majority of the time, and when he was last on Palaven his father had done most of the cooking when they didn’t eat away from home.

When he was a fledgling everyone had their turn learning to cook with their live-in staff. Castis had wanted all of them to learn the basics, stating they wouldn’t always have someone to do it for them. And he’d been right, when Garrus left primary service for the Citadel he’d lived alone. Cooking, cleaning. All the basic tasks that he’d mostly overlooked during basic and his time on  _ Hastatim  _ came back in full force.

Omega was still a bitter memory, but some sweetness crept in from time to time. Once a day he tried to cook real food. Those evenings slaving over the heating unit for the turians on the team, bandaged up from their most recent skirmish by Lantar, were some of the happier moments. Sidonis and Sensat had no culinary skills whatsoever, but both were very appreciative of his basic ones. Anything was better than eating all of your meals in bar form. He’d been guilty of doing that much too often.

“Credit for your thoughts?” Solana joked, tapping her crest against his shoulder.

He tilted his head back to look at her. “Just thinking about the last time I cooked. Been awhile.”

“Mhm. Fair. I’ve been doing a lot lately. Lots of mouths to feed.”

“Right, how is that? Tiran seems nice,” he baited. Her flushed blue neck gave her away immediately. “Aha. So you were trying to get me back then?”

“Sort of?” the shorter turian offered with contented hum as she moved to lean on the counter beside the heating unit, watching him tend the pan. “Met him on the refugee ship, his mum did surgery on my leg. He assisted. Took care of me after that. And when we came back to Palaven his home was gone so I invited them here. It just grew from there. We’re not bonded or anything, but maybe… one day. What about you?”

“Short version?” she nodded, agreeing to the abbreviation. “I want to say it’s because of my charm and good looks, but really? He saved me from myself. There were a lot of… hm... darker days… for both of us. We got close fast. What started as a spar ended with a hell of a lot more.”

“Mhm. Dad described it as a flash flood.”

The blue-eyed male nodded, still watching what he was doing instead of watching her expression. “Something like that.”

She hummed in agreement before tilting her head in uncertainty, the sub vocal change from agreeing to questioning obvious to him. “I… I thought there was someone else when you were here before the war. You didn’t seem to interested in looking for sparring partners then...”

Garrus tried to hold his face steady but he couldn’t hide from his sister. He’d never had been able to. “There was. But that…” he paused, clenching his jaw, “changed. They changed. Adrien didn’t. He… he helped me get through it.”

“Sounds like you’re pretty swept up, G.”

He looked up finally, meeting his sister’s eyes with a small smile sitting on his mandibles. “I guess I am. You too?” 

“Me too,” she replied, reaching up to put a hand on his shoulder just beside his bondmark. “It looks good on you.”

Humming a thanks, he went back to cooking. And Solana left his side, moving to start taking things out to the dining room and meet their guests. Garrus glanced up just in time to watch her leave, a fond smile on his face. It was good to be home.

+-+-+-

Solana walked into the dining room, hands full with serving utensils and the basket of rolls Garrus had stolen from earlier. Tiran and Adrien were sitting companionably at the table discussing something about the hospital. They noticed her entry and stopped, the elder male inclined his head in greeting.

“Anything we can assist with?” he asked, half standing from his chair. Tiran stood as well, meeting her halfway to the table and taking the utensils from her to spread around the table.

Garrus had asked her to treat his mate as one of the family, not as Primarch, so she steeled herself and nodded, smiling as she said, “The rest of dinner’s on the counter. Can you start bringing things out?” 

“Of course,” the golden eyed male agreed and left her alone with her own potential mate for a moment. 

“He’s nice,” the doctor said, coming up behind her and wrapping his lithe arms around her keel, nose pressed to the side of her neck. “You forget he’s actually the Primarch when he talks.” 

The Blackwatch agent rested her weight against the solid form behind her, tilting her head back against his shoulder and cupping the side of his face with her hand. “Unnerving,” she mumbled. 

“Not really. I think I might’ve found an ally.”

Solana snorted, turning to face him while still wrapped in his arms. “For what?”

“To make your brother like me,” he said, vibrant green eyes catching her own. “Seems like a tough turian to please. Need to be at-”  _ cough “ _ \- my best.”

She pressed her crest to his, the vibrations of her warm hum strong enough that he’d be able to feel them. “He’s going to like you just fine, Amore. Just wait till we have some time alone with him, alright?”

“Right,” the darker turian nodded against her before stepping away. “I should probably help too, wouldn’t want them to think I’m above it.”

“Tiran, don’t do that...”

He sighed, long and drawn out as he grabbed for her hand. “I just… sorry. You’re already too high tiered for me and now… your brother mates the spirits damn Primarch. I’m not… I just can’t hold a candle to that. I’m a doctor… not-”

She cut him off with a solid mouthful of reverie. And he stopped, dropping all semblance of resistance and holding onto her shorter form for, what seemed like to her, dear life. A half minute later she pulled back, breathless and a little light headed.

“Better?” the willowy turian asked, stepping back from him this time. Giving him enough space to breathe. He nodded and relaxed a little, the tension dropping from his frame. 

Just in time, too as the doors at the far end of the room swung open to admit most of Tiran’s family. The older styling of this part of the  _ maldis _ still inspired a bit of awe in them, as they all took a moment to appreciate the room in between greetings for her and Tiran. Thoughts of leaving were gone it seemed as before long she had the older fledgling, Eaish, on her hip while Tiran took his younger nephew, Neema, in his cowl. Giving Tiran’s married-in sister, Reina, a break since Pelen was still away.

Solana stuck out in the sea of darker plates. Even the married in partners were darker than her; Reina a warm brown with stunning silver eyes and Tenn, Alli’s mate, a gunmetal grey with black eyes darker than any she’d ever seen. Each member of the family, save the young ones, had stark white markings the contrasted beautifully against their mixed tones. All Palaven mid-tier born.

A quick glance around showed all but Tiran’s youngest sister, Voss, were present and accounted for. So taking advantage of the free moment, she moved over to the table where Alli had plunked herself down to rest from the short walk over, crutches leaning against the table beside her. “Your sister still coming?” she asked her quietly.

“Voss? Mhm. Be here in a bit, wanted to polish her fringe or something else ridiculous,” the older midnight-toned turian sighed, she wasn’t one for vanity. “Why? Something happen?”

Solan’s mandibles quirked to the side. “Kind of...” 

“Spill,” she demanded in a hushed whisper while playing with her nephew’s taloned feet, the picture of nonchalant. 

“He didn’t come home alone…”

“No?”

“No.”

“Ohhh…” Alli drew out the word, smiling with unhidden glee. As far as Solana understood it, Voss and Alli were not the best of friends and this little conversation proved that. It also meant that the Vakarian scion had an ally. “She’s going to be  _ furious _ .”

“Mind helping keep her off of him?” she asked carefully, bouncing the child on her knee and waving Tiran off when he glanced over, a questioning tilt to his mandibles. 

“Mhm. I’ll do what I can. She’s here?”

“He, actually.”

Her grin grew wider and she stifled a laugh. “Oh, yeah. Voss is going to be  _ pissed _ .”

+-+-+-+-

Adrien was wrapped around Garrus in the kitchen, chin resting on his shoulder and arms around his waist as he waited for him to finish up. His stormy eyes were closed now, having taken in the room around them when he first entered. From the near ancient styling of the doors to the vaulted ceilings that looked just like those in the dining room, it was a beautiful space. The countertops were a cool white stone, the cabinets underneath and above them a warm grey. Accents of aquamarine were spread throughout, the pots and cooking implements as well as a few decorative pieces of pottery.  

He could only guess at who’d designed the space, it held all the modern amenities while still holding onto the old world charm of the main house. 

“Suppose I should get back…” he mumbled into Garrus’ cowl after stifling a yawn. The Primarch felt his mate shrug against him, humming a negative.

“I’m just about done,” he said as he turned off the heating element and reached for the large serving bowl that Solana must have left out for him. “Wait with me.”

Adrien let him go so he could deal with the food more effectively. His head cocking to the side when he heard a fair number more voices coming from the dining room. “Sounds like the rest of the Clan has shown up anyways. Better give your sister and Tiran a moment to warn them first.”

His mate huffed an amused breath, it wasn’t enough to be considered a laugh but it was a far cry better than he’d been earlier. “Fair. But, what is she warning them about? Me or you?”

“Hmm…” he hummed back in overblown consideration. “Both?”

Garrus laughed, pushing his shoulder with his free hand when he turned around. Adrien let himself be shoved backwards into the island and helped his partner steady the bowl as he pulled him in for a quick taste of Reverie. Helping to calm his nerves a little more.

The bowl found it’s way to the counter behind him and his arms wound around Garrus’ back as he pushed in, wanting more. It was all too easy to acquiesce, the elder male’s want just as strong as the younger’s. A small moan fell unbidden from his throat when talons dragged along the hide of his waist, having somehow found their way under his… er… Garrus’ old shirt.

Sliding one of his own hands up the blue-eyed male’s spine he found the sensitive hide under his fringe. Very lightly he smoothed his talons across it, just hard enough to make him shiver. He was just about to dip his opposing hand lower to cup the swell of his partner’s taut behind when he heard a noise. 

“Ahem…”

He froze. The small cough came from the direction of the far door, alerting them slightly too late that they weren’t alone. 

Adrien half turned, seeing that it was Castis he stiffened slightly, immediately embarrassed at their predicament. A simple touch of crests was one thing, but a full out Reverie stealing session was a little over the top for someone to accidentally walk in on. Feeling entirely too much like the adolescent he most definitely was not, his neck flushed a little blue.

“Castis,” he greeted, trying without success to banish the hesitation from his voice. 

“Good to see you’re settling in,” Garrus’ father said with a warm smile as he shook his head. Obviously he wasn’t quite expecting to walk in on that either. Opening his eyes and meeting Adrien’s gaze he finished what he’d come in to say. “The Melandras are here.”

“Right,” the white-painted turian replied a little smoother. “We’ll be right out.” 

The eldest turian in the room looked between them, his expression dropping a little when his eyes fell onto Garrus. He looked like he wanted to do something, but he said nothing more. Just left them alone in the  _ Caman _ and shut the door behind himself. From beyond the closed doors Adrien heard greetings being called out to the Vakarian Clan leader, and he turned back towards his partner a bit confused.

In the immediate moments after the cough, Garrus had pulled back from him. Adrien had initially thought it was embarrassed startlement. But now, looking at his heaving chest and the adrenaline draining from his face, he realised it had been fear. Not fear over his father’s reaction but from being startled in the first place, the butcher’s knife in his hand was evidence of that. Too long a soldier, not long enough home. 

“Garrus,” the Primarch kept his voice purposefully smooth. As a military leader, he’d dealt with this a few times before. Fight or flight was a strong instinct, and soldiers, nearly always, fought. “Time to come back.”

Glossed over blue-eyes blinked unseeing a few times before his mandibles slackened and his raised arms fell to his sides. The blade still held firmly in his left hand, fist clenched hard enough for the blood to drain from his fingertips.

“That’s it, it’s just us here,” he soothed, still not approaching him. Waiting for the right moment to move in. “What do you see, Garrus?”

He blinked again, this time his eyes remained shut longer and he shook his head. Hands came back up to press against his crest, chin dipping down to his chest as he leaned back on the edge of the heating unit’s tempered glass door.

“Breathe,” came the encouraging order. “Just breathe.”

When the distressed male’s shoulder slumped he knew he’d come down far enough, and only then did he step closer and disarm him. The knife slid easily from his shaking talons and was placed on the counter before being slid away, well out of arm’s reach. 

“...what’s wrong with me?” Garrus asked in a small, distressed voice.

“War, love. It’ll pass.”

“...but…”

“Stop, and listen to me.” Adrien half reprimanded as he wrapped his arms around his partner’s cowl, nudging his hands away from his face with his crest. “You’re going to have moments where the war comes back and hits you hard. It’s expected. Sometimes it’ll be dreams, sometimes moments like this where you’re startled. So just hold onto me and let it pass.”

“But… I don’t…”

“Do you trust me, Garrus?” he asked while backing away slightly, just enough to look him in the eyes as he pulled his chin up. The younger turian nodded in his grasp. “Good. Then trust me now. You’re strong enough to get through this, and if you falter? I’m here. Alright?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, pressing forwards to touch crests with him. Tightness letting go again as he came back down from the stressed little peak he’d managed to find. When he looked up his eyes were a clear blue once again, the glassy look gone.

Adrien smiled down at him. “Much better...” he hummed warm and smooth before reluctantly pulling back to take his arm. He leaned in as they walked, purring into his ear. “Let’s get through this and then? I’m taking you back to your room where I’m going to pin you against the wall and make it so you actually can’t walk tomorrow.”

Garrus chuckled and squeezed his arm. As ready as he was going to be.

+-+-+-

Arm in arm, Garrus and Adrien entered the dining hall. A myriad of turians spread around it, chatting and laughing with one another. Sol sat talking to another female at the long table, a fledgling on her knee, Castis was speaking in low tones to who he guessed were Tiran’s parents, and said turian was chatting with another male with dark grey plates. 

“Garrus, Adrien,” Solana trilled happily, standing and passing the child to the female she’d been sitting beside. “Everyone, this is my brother and his bondmate.”

There was a small chorus of welcomes from the clan, grateful hums came with the words but this time it wasn’t so heavy as the last. He was actually in his own home, one they’d been staying in with his own family. It didn’t overwhelm him so much as the greetings had at the Spaceport just hours ago. The realisation that it had only been a few hours was a little daunting.

Solana pulled the two of them around the room, introducing the family quickly. Each by first name only, the Clan name Melandra included them all. Tiran was one of five siblings, but only his older sister was present for now. Apparently two of their ilk were stuck at work, the third was running behind schedule. The addition of two mated siblings rounded out their number, and the two fledglings belonged to one of them. His grandmother was also present, a spry looking one-hundred and twenty year old, who was sure she knew Adrien from somewhere… but couldn’t place him.

Tiran’s parents, Sheera and Zen, were last to be introduced. And the two of them did indeed recognize the Primarch when they saw him. Perhaps that was what his father had been discussing with the elder male when they’d walked in. 

“It’s an honor,” Sheera had spoken in low tones and with a grateful smile when they joined their small circle. She’d not been hesitant to take each of their arms in turn, as one would with friends. “You need not worry about your identity Adrien, we are all family here.”

His mate had nodded his head in thanks. “We appreciate your discretion, but it is as much for your comfort as our own. No one should feel they need to be formal with either of us inside the  _ maldis _ . And honestly, I’m grateful for the break.”

That had been the end of the discussion, whether or not the rest of the Melandras realised they were in the presence of a Primarch they did not say. 

Garrus relaxed enough to chat a little, and even leave his mate’s side to meet the fledglings. Both of them were too young to understand his scarred plating and diminished stature, which was a nice change from the knowing looks he got from the rest of Tiran’s family. Medical professionals, the lot of them.

When Tiran’s sister, Alli, passed him the older fledgling he was surprised but accepted him without quarrel. 

It had been a long time since he’d held a child like this. The simple joy that his attentions brought to the soft-plated child warmed the ex-C-Sec officer, reminding him of the days before any of this began. On Omega he’d helped a number of children, but most were glassy-eyed and beaten down. In C-Sec he’d done some work with them as well: finding lost ones and returning them to their parents, talking to school children for safety seminars, he’d helped with a hostage situation or two, and found and helped duct rats along the way to becoming a detective. 

This though? Reminded him of the days before all that. Before  _ Hasistim _ , before basic training. Of the early days at the  _ maldis _ where he was the eldest taking care of his cousins. A few minutes later, Garrus noticed Adrien watching them. A smile ghosting over his mandibles. And that was a good feeling too.

Solana glanced up a short time later when Tiran walked over, closing the haptic interface to his omnitool down. “Voss is just on her way from the guest wing now,” he explained shortly. “Want me to start bringing dinner out?”

“That’d be great,” she replied, making to stand before a voice from across the room stopped her.

“We can manage,” Adrien called out, crossing the room to gently press his crest to Garrus’. “Just what’s under the stasis field?”

The pale-plated female nodded. “That’s all… you’re sure?”

Tiran and Adrien left, assuring her that they’d be fine, while the rest of the Clan seated themselves at the table. Garrus gave the fledgling back to his mother, Reina, and took a seat beside his sister. He left the chair on his bad side open for Adrien, who he knew wouldn’t mind his scars. 

Everyone’s lively chatter continued as they got comfortable. Garrus listened to them, and took a breath. It felt good...  _ really _ good to be a part of a group like this. It just hadn’t felt like home when he was at the  _ maldis _ last. It had needed people filling it. And if he was honest with himself, not having a war looming over his head was a welcome change too.

Tiran’s parents were helping to settle the fledglings, and all was well until the younger one of them spit up onto their grandmother. Sheera didn’t seem too bothered, but the little one’s mother fret until Solana stood and offered to fetch a towel. Sheera had thanked her, and his sister left in a hurry in the direction of the  _ Caman _ . 

As Solana left she passed the missing member of the Melandra clan.

All this would have been fine…  _ normal even _ … if not for the empty seats that were left around him once she was gone. To his right was Adrien’s empty chair, and on his left were two more empty places, Solana and Tiran’s. One of which was quickly filled by the midnight-toned newcomer, her second voice warm and welcoming.

“Youuuu, must be Garrus. A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m Voss,” she hummed with delight while leaning onto the tabletop, her head resting on manicured talons. The line her body made was elegant, and unless he missed his guess, _ intentional. _

“Hm… ah... nice to meet you too.” Garrus replied as smoothly as he could manage, thrown off by her demeanor. He scrambled for something else to say and could only lamely come up with, “You’re Tiran’s sister?”

She latched onto it with ease. “Oh! He’s already told you about me, how kind of him. I know all about you… though, you’re more handsome than I expected.” Her other hand rose from it’s place accentuating her waist to flick at his face before coming down on his thigh. “You know… I work with a pair of very good cosmetic surgeons that happened to survive the war, and  _ we _ , could get those fixed right up for you. Have you looking the part of a War Hero in no time!” 

The beautiful female laughed brightly at her own joke, but the effect on him was perhaps not as intended. His jaw locked automatically as he leaned away, recoiling from the flippancy about his injuries, about people ‘happening’ to survive the war. His gizzard tilted over slightly, giving a vague sense of needing to vomit.

He didn’t want to ‘look the part’ of… of  _ anything _ .

“ _ Voss _ ,” her mother hissed. Up in arms on his behalf, Sheera was half standing before her partner put a steadying hand on her arm. The elder female did sit back down, but the displeased glare didn’t subside. 

“What? It’s true,” the younger female tossed towards her parents before turning back to Garrus, her hand still firmly on his leg. “I’m sure the war was  _ stressful  _ for you…” she purred, while leaning into his space.

The sniper stiffened visibly, trying not to recoil. Instead he cleared his throat. “Nothing my partner and I can’t handle, thank you.”

Her advance stopped then, expression dropping a little as she backed off a half pace. Just enough to make her look friendly but not invasive. It was just in time too, as the three missing turians entered the dining room with arms full of hot food. 

The Vakarian scion looked over his shoulder, catching Solana’s matching eyes with his own and he gave her a pleading look. She seemed to understand as she nodded slightly and once she’d passed the towel to Sheera, she turned to Voss. 

“Mind trading places with me?” she asked politely to the other female. 

The midnight-toned turian made a slight moan of protest but did eventually get up and move to the place open for her, just across the table from where she’d originally sat down. Kitty-corner to where Garrus was seated. 

Adrien finished placing his set of dishes at the far end of the table before moving back to his place at the ex-detective’s side. Brushing his talon’s over the younger male’s shoulder as he slid into his chair, a tiny unspoken question lingering in his gaze, asking if he was alright.

Garrus relaxed a little with his mate’s presence. Or at least… he would have, if not for the little scoff from the other side of the table. His gaze snapped from Adrien to Voss.

“Something wrong?” he asked, trying and thankfully succeeding at remaining calm for now.   

She rolled her wrist as she sat forwards in her chair, gesturing vaguely towards his mate. “That’s your partner?” she asked, voice unbelieving. “Little  _ old _ for you, isn’t he?”

The shocked gasps from the rest of the table weren’t heard over Garrus’ growl as his calm quickly faded and was replaced with anger. He stood quickly, chair sliding backwards and palms pressed firmly against the tabletop. “Excuse me?” he nearly roared.

“What?” the young female asked, leaning back in her chair, nonchalant at his challenging posture. “When you said you had a partner I just wasn’t expecting… well… a nest robber.”

“Voss!” The half of the Melandra clan that wasn’t stunned to silence yelled at her, the insult coming out clear as day.

“Honestly,” she laughed, her dark eyes sliding up from where they’d been checking her manicure to meet her target’s. “You can do better, even without getting rid of those.” Her fingers waved at his scars again. “Find a nice girl, spread that hero DNA around a little.”

Garrus was stunned to silence, the muscles in his bad arm twitching for want to do something. He heard the calming hum coming from his mate, and felt the hand on his lower back, but ignored them. He might’ve said more but it was Tiran’s voice that broke the ensuing silence. 

“Voss, stop.” He’d stood up from his own chair on Garrus’ left, just on the other side of his sister’s place. Turning towards the insulted turians he attempted to soothe the situation little, “I apologize for my sister, she didn’t mean that-”

“Oh, but I did,” the female spoke up again, adding fuel to the flames. Her gaze turned to the Primarch, tone continuing to be insolent. “Couldn’t find someone in your own cohort? Needed to move down a generational rung?”

“ _ Spirits Voss… shut up _ !” the charcoal plated male hissed at her. “You don’t know who you’re talking to…”

It was Garrus’ turn to scoff. “Regardless of who my bondmate is, you have no right to speak to anyone that way. Let alone in  _ our  _ home.”

“Garrus-” Adrien began, only to be cut off by the brief blue flash of his mate’s eyes on his own. He nodded, and withdrew his hand from the small of Garrus’ back.

Castis started to stand, choosing his moment to descalate the situation carefully but not quite at the correct moment. “Perhaps it would be best to-”

“ _ Dad, _ ” Garrus cut his father off with a sharp shake of his head and waited for him to sit back down before he levelled a glare back towards the newcomer. Even if it was his home, this wasn’t his fight. “You’ll apologize to Adrien and not refer to the war at dinner again, am I clear?”

The female looked a little bored with the whole affair, but nodded. “I’m sorry that you were insulted.” Sheera elbowed her. “ _ Ouch, mom _ … fine. I’m sorry I offended you, Adrien. Garrus, it wasn’t my intent. I just feel that you can do better...”

“VOSS!” her grandmother, Tiquette, roared from the end of the table before letting out the last thing that needed to be thrown across the table. “That’s Adrien  **Victus** . The Primarch. So help me my granddaughter I will flay you alive if you say one more spirits forsaken word!”

The judgemental little socialite paled, then paled further, the rich hide of her neck turning nearly as grey as his own plates. She stood up automatically, taking a panicked step away from the table, sub vocals horrified. 

“O-o-oh! I ah-”

Garrus laughed, and not in a happy way, the room of people around him all subconsciously leaned away from the roiling, dangerous rage in his sub vocals. Everyone except for Adrien. Did they think he was a war hero because he was  _ nice?  _ Did they think he’d put up with people talking about his mate with anything but respect?

_ No _ .

“As she said. Not. Another. Word.” 

Voss’ eyes got bigger with his every word, taking a step back, then another, then outright fleeing the dinner table. He watched her go, then slowly sank down into his seat. 

For a moment, no one said a thing. The silence hung like a stone at the bottom of a lake. Undisturbable for that brief second.

After a few calming breaths Garrus managed to let go of the fire in his gut enough to speak, and he turned to Tiquette with carefully calm words. “I apologize for driving her away, but Adrien and I ha-”

The lanky older woman smacked a fist on the table, smiling ferociously at him. He blinked at her in surprise. “Now don’t you say a word! I’ve been trying to put the fear of the spirits into that girl since the day she was named. No one wanted that social mess just now to happen at this table, full of people who’ve done more selfless good then most could imagine, but it did. I don’t think you want to hear sorry, and I don’t think you should be saying it yourself. Let’s let the apologies lay, and have a good meal instead, yes? ”

His next exhale let out more of the sudden stress than the previous few intentional attempts combined. Tiquette, at least, was a good sort, and she was right. He didn’t care about apologies. He just… wanted to eat dinner with his mate and his clan. Not having more to add, the tall sniper nodded twice, and looked to Sol hoping she would just carry on with the proceedings so he could eat. 

Hopefully good food restored his mood. 

With a last glance at where Voss had fled, his sister cleared her throat and set talons to tabletop, humming a welcome to the guests seated there, and a greeting to the spirit of their hearth. The rest of the table joined in one by one, making a softly rising thrum of community that laced into that sense of being home. Tiran’s voice was perhaps even scratchier than expected but the blessing and welcome-sharing rose high, before trailing off. 

Hands began to shift lids away and flick stasis fields off, and the smell of the small feast brought his appetite back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What an eventful day!
> 
> Leave some comments if you'd like to see more. I'm trying to do a chapter a week!


	20. Still be here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time continues to move slowly as our hero settles in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In before midnight, woo! Enjoy this next chapter, it's time to start setting the stage for our next arc while enjoying a little quiet time. NSFW. 
> 
> Many thanks to be delivered as always:  
> [ **Kuraiummei**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuraiummei/pseuds/Kuraiummei) and [**Spicy_Gnome**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Spicy_Gnome/pseuds/Spicy_Gnome): For the beta and writing assistance!

 

Stumbling the last few paces to the bed felt almost as difficult as his first few had after waking from the coma. He groaned in complaint as his knees hit the frame, beginning to topple over with gravity’s siren call. 

“Mmnn... that... “ Garrus trailed off with a sigh, burrowing into the softness of his somewhat musty pillows. He didn’t so much ‘get under’ the blankets as roll in a vaguely helpful way to make them end up mostly on top of him. He stilled after most of his legs were covered, calling it good enough.“ -could have gone so much better...” 

His shoulders heaved as he took a deep breath, blowing out the bad air. Gentle but firm hands tugged his unclasped sweater off, then moved his excess of limbs out of the way and pulled the blanket flat. He felt the bed sink when Adrien finally joined him.

“Mhm… it could have been worse,” his mate rumbled in his ear, his voice taking on a low timbre as Adrien smoothed a hand across his back. The vibration rolled through him from Adrien’s chest to his back, making him shiver. 

The younger male rolled half onto his side, face poking out from under his arm to lay eyes on the love of his life. “How do you figure that?” 

“For starters? You didn’t shoot anyone.” Adrien’s mandibles spread into a grin at his exhausted laughter. His mate did have a good point.  

With a quiet trill of warning, Adrien pushed him flat onto his back.The exhausted sniper rolled with the gentle pressure, his throat bared to his mate in a trusting gesture as he didn’t bother raising his head. The golden eyed male leaned over top of him, head dipping to take advantage of the exposed hide with his tongue. Garrus sighed again, this time in bliss, as his mate wandered ever upwards, palming the back of his neck and bringing him in for a taste of Reverie. He gave in without pause, legs shifting in the sheets as the weariness of the day was eased with affection and closeness. The touch of hormones didn’t hurt either.

When they pulled away from each other after an unknown number of minutes lost in taste and smell, he was a bit breathless but smiling. “...if that…ahh... that’s the bar? Then yeah, could’ve been worse.” His cool black talons wrapped around the back of his partner’s darker grey fringe and brought the other male down again, still needing the soothing taste of his mate on his tongue.

Outside the window dusk came and went, the moment undisturbed by the distant chirps of insects and rising calls of Palaven’s night birds. Sometime after both Nanus and Menae had set they came up for air again, Garrus beyond dizzy with desire and Reverie. 

“Better?” Adrien hummed with warming undertones.

“Mhmmm…” the ex-detective mumbled while stifling a yawn, blinking against tiredness in favour of savouring their time together. When he’d fought off the downward pull for the moment, he looked up and caught his mate staring down at him with such an immense softness in his gaze that the sniper’s heart skipped a beat in his chest. Garrus huffed a quiet little laugh, reaching out to draw a knuckle down the line of Adrien’s mandible. The other male leaned into the soft touch, still watching him.

“Sleep?” the taller male asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Shaking his head once, the sniper reached for his mate’s waist, gripping the supple hide there in a bid to incite something more exciting than unconsciousness. “I seem to remember a promise being made. Something about pinning me against the wall?” The elder male shivered above him, closing his stormy eyes against the sensation of his tender touch.

“Don’t tempt me, love.” His hips ground down against Garrus’, dual toned voice groaning for lack of direct stimulus. “You... need rest.”

Garrus hummed a noncommittal reply, talons dragging light indentations over his mate’s rear plating, up over his hip crests and dipping lower to tease along his sides; all done with agonizing slowness, the intention being to torment Adrien with the sensation. The sniper was rewarded for his subversion with a soft gasp, and the unmistakable shift in his partner’s sub vocals as they tilted toward deeper desire.

His mandibles flicked in a grin, lopsided and dark, as he repeated the motion.

“Ahhhh… Garrusss… you... “

“Mmmm?”

“You. Are you going to get in trouble.”

The blue eyed male hummed agreement. “Are you saying you want me to stop?”

“Mn... Trick question.”

“I used to be a detective, didn’t you know? Being good at asking the right question is one of-”

Adrien chuffed at him, the amusement in his sub vocals not well subdued as the other male dove for his mouth, hips still captivated in a slow, rolling grind.

“You’ll be the death of me… mnnn... with that...  snark of yours.”

“Does that… ahhhh… does that count as treason?”

The Primarch stifled another deep bass laugh before tugging his crest aside to mouth at the thin hide under his jaw. He melted into the feeling of mouthplate points and warm tongue, his pelvic plates half spread as Adrien riled him up in equal measure. 

“Ha. I’ll show you  _ treason _ .”

+-+-+

Adrien’s hands slid down Garrus’ sides, pressing his palms into the sensitive hide causing the younger male to groan and throw his head back into the numerous pillows behind him. No sooner did his questing talons reach the hem of the white undershirt did they disappear underneath it, his own battle roughened hands against bare hide making his partner shiver below him.

“Uhnn... Adrien please…” his sniper whined, neediness threading through his voice as he cried out for more. Garrus’ back arched from the mattress, seeking additional contact and tilting his head further back to give better access to his throat. Adrien could feel talons making slow, enticing rakes down his back, catching in the cloth when his touches turned the other male’s movements uncoordinated. 

On any other day, this would have been just the thing the Primarch wanted. It was what he craved every night after endless hours of slogging through politics and paperwork.

The control...  this powerful male, a legend in his own right, moaning for him, weak and graceless for his touch.

The trust... everyone questioned him, every hour of every day, one of the youngest Primarchs ever put into office. He’d proven to be a good leader during war, but during peace and recovery? Everyone was worried, cautious and watchful. Not Garrus… his mate bared his supple, light brown throat to him without pause. During the war, and now, implicit trust that he would take every care of him.

He coveted these moments, being trusted and loved, lost in warm hide and slick plates.

In the past he’d been known to make a game of sex, as most young soldiers do, pulling the one under him ever closer to the edge before backing off to be pleasured in return, and then coming back to give into his desires. Pleasure and power games between the rigors of active duty.

The days where simple play could satisfy him were gone. Now he craved deeper trust, a more complete surrender on both sides. Something reliable and steadfast. Something complete.  

He wanted,  _ no _ , he  _ needed _ this partnership. He needed his mate as his equal. He didn’t want to dominate Garrus. He wanted to feel the gentle thrum of sub vocals against his chest as his mate’s plating slide aside for him, letting him bury himself to the hilt, to get lost in Reverie. In scent and taste and feeling.

“Garrus,” he hummed into the underside of his mate’s jaw before pulling back just enough to look him in his eyes. The foggy blue caught his intense gold and held them for a moment before his mandibles tilted into a small smile.

“Adrien,” the ex-detective replied, talons tightening into the borrowed sweater as he leaned upwards from the bed, pressing their crests together as though he could read the Primarch’s thoughts. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His throat felt thick all the sudden, and he swallowed it down. “I know. I just…” he stopped, unable to finish the thought. His voice breaking over the words as his shoulders shook and breaths came out uneven. Adrien’s eyes closed when he felt Garrus’ hand on his cheek, his thumb rubbing a soothing line along the ridge of his facial plate. 

“What do you need?” his partner asked in a low voice, his adoration coming out in the bare syllables. 

The slate-grey turian couldn’t find words, instead he trusted that Garrus would understand as he tugged at the younger male’s remaining clothing before pulling away to remove his own. He complied, stripping before he lay back down and pulled Adrien to him. Thin legs wound around the Primarch’s unplated waist, taloned feet locking behind his back.

“I need you,” Garrus breathed against his neck, saying the words that he couldn’t voice for himself. Adrien hummed a comforting tone as best he could, even his sub harmonics were a mess with emotion. Grief still not assuaged by relief. 

He was already out and hard, natural lubricant leaking from his seam and down his thighs. His Advisor was almost ready from their earlier forays, but he slid slicked fingers against his rear plating to prepare him. Garrus’ hands traced the plates of his back while he allowed Adrien to work, rocking against his hand until he too was out of his plates. His length trapped between them, slippery and hot.

The wet slide of Adrien’s task sounded obscene, the room was otherwise quiet save their breaths and heartbeats. Even Palaven’s night creatures were silent as they moved together.

A strangled moan broke the stillness and signalled to the Primarch that Garrus was ready for him. He took a moment to adjust himself on his knees, pressing his tip against his partner’s entrance. He caught Garrus’ blue eyes in his own golden ones, ice thawed by the storm as he shivered in the intensity of his gaze. 

“Please, Adrien…” he whispered in a reverent tone, breaths now steady and slow even as his heart beat faster in his chest. 

Adrien’s eyes fell closed, crest dropping down to touch Garrus’ as he began to rock forwards. He moved in slow… too slow, feeling every centimeter how his partner tensed and relaxed underneath him as he slid home. He was panting hard by the time he was fully seated, and a twitch of anticipation made Garrus groan, the vibration rolling through their joined bodies.

A squeeze around his midsection spurred Adrien on, letting him know it was safe for him to move, and by the trill of thanks he knew it was welcomed. He kept his strokes long and his pace agonizing, flexing each time he buried himself into Garrus. Dragging out their pleasure for as long as possible. 

While his own hands were busy holding his weight above his partner, Garrus’ were free to explore. Kneading into the tired muscles of his neck and shoulders, tracing the lines of new and old battle scars down to his chest, dipping between hard edged plates to the softer hide and making him groan. They settled on his hips once he’d finished mapping his hide, sliding around to grip his ass on occasion to pull him in deeper when his legs couldn’t stand being wrapped around his waist any longer.

“What do you need?” Garrus asked through a moan after what felt to Adrien like a blissful eternity. He glanced down to see his mate watching his face, his handsome smile encouraging and full of bliss.

“You,” came his firm answer as he smoothed one hand across the undamaged side of his face to wrap around the back of his fringe, pulling his head up to meet his own. “Just you.”

Garrus’ mouth angled to catch his own. Tongues finding one another and dancing together as thrusts became a little firmer. A little less coordinated as he came undone in Garrus’ arms. Pouring all his love into his movements and the dose of Reverie that they shared. 

Adrien couldn’t hold out any longer, and even though he grasped the younger male’s length and tried to pull him along, he couldn’t manage to wait long enough to finish him as well. Thrusting hard and deep as he spasmed and finished, he collapsed down onto his still healing partner. Shaking in the aftermath, as Garrus’ sub harmonics soothed him. 

When he came back to himself he pulled away, neck flushing a dark blue, but he was met with a smile and reassurance. “Better?” the younger male asked, running the tips of his talons across the expanse of his waist. He shuttered, all the more sensitive after such a strong finish.

Acknowledging him with a grunt before lacing an apology into his sub vocals, he fell onto his side. Heart still beating quickly in his chest and breaths ragged. Garrus came with him, one of his legs trapped beneath him as he remained firmly seated inside his partner. 

Adrien’s hands glided along the expanse of bare chest in front of him, tracing a path lower to Garrus’ obvious need still throbbing between them. “What do you need, love?” he asked in a deep rolling tone. One that caused Garrus to quiver with anticipation.

“Stay with me. I’m not ready for you to leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he parroted the words from earlier, relishing the slight chuff of amusement it brought forward. The older male’s knuckle skimmed along the underside of his partner’s length from base to tip before he wrapped his fist around it. Twisting his hand with just the right amount of pressure to make Garrus buck against him.

“And that. Oh.... more of that…” he cried out, eyes closing and body stiffening. His hands gripped onto the strong lines of his back, and his face pressed into the Primarch’s shoulder. 

Adrien was still buried deep inside his partner, and that only seemed to help Garrus along. It gave his internal muscles something to clench down on as he writhed in the now warmed sheets. It didn’t take long for him to finish, over primed from earlier and giving himself to his partner.

They lay together in a heap until Adrien softened enough to pull out. Garrus’ undershirt used to tidy up their mess for lack of strength to get out of bed, on either of their parts. The elder stole one more solid taste of Reverie before rolling onto his back, pulling the younger with him so he could sleep on his chest. 

Adrien had started to doze off, thinking that Garrus was already asleep, but he snapped awake at one last whispered question. “You’ll still be here when I wake up?” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, arms tightening around his mate’s frail shoulders. “That, I can promise.”

+-+-+-+-

Morning came and in rare form, Garrus was the first one awake. Brought out of his deep slumber by hunger gnawing at his stomach, making him feel a bit ill. He stared up at the ceiling trying to will it away for a few minutes, watching the dim predawn light began to filter in from covered windows along the far wall. The blankets were warm and his mate’s arms still wrapped loose around him, he  _ really  _ didn’t want to get up yet.

When his stomach groaned a second time, audible enough to hear, he gave up. Extracting himself from Adrien’s sleep heavy arms, leaving him to sleep a little longer while he headed for the bathroom. Wrapping a warm cobalt-blue robe around himself, he took a ration bar from the nightstand and slipped out in silence.

Once he was in the hallway, he tore into the bar and allowed his taloned feet to relax. The gentle patter of them clicking against the warm stone floors was familiar and welcome. He was thankful for his family’s investment in the newer wing of the  _ maldis _ , the heated floors made walking around barefoot bearable in the chill of the early morning. Palaven was sweltering during the day, but the twenty degree drop overnight was always noticeable. 

He could hear birds beginning their morning songs outside as he passed the smaller courtyard that he and Solana used to play in as children. A quick glance showed him how overgrown the garden was, dew glittering in the first dregs of sunlight. He didn’t stop long, the memories of years long past flew by too quick and stuck in the forefront of his mind. The joy of his childhood marred by memories of his mother’s last days and how he’d ended up in that same garden in the hours after she died.

Once he’d finished his morning routine, he headed back towards his room. As he neared the doors, Solana’s opened to expel a shirtless and sleep lagged looking Tiran. The darker toned male didn’t notice him at first, his face pressed into his hands as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. A wide yawn went unstifled into the cool, open air hallway.

Garrus’ eyes traced the scars on his arms and chest, knowing from experience that they were born of fire. He hadn’t planned to ask about the older male’s rough voice, but from the look of him now, it was a result of whatever had burned him.  

The blue-marked turian allowed his footfalls to come a little heavier, hoping it was enough to alert him to his presence. He had no idea what made those scars, and if it was enough half as bad as what had done it to him, then he owed it to Tiran not to startle him. 

It was enough, as the older male perked up and swung his gaze towards the oncoming sound.

“Tiran, good morning.”

He looked a bit startled, but after a half moment’s pause the charcoal-plated male turian was able to reply. “Ah… good morning, Garrus. - _ Cough-  _ I’m sorry I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be up yet.”

Garrus’ mandibles tilted into a wry smile. “Not the first time I’ve caught someone sneaking out of Sol’s room. Been a while though, I’ll admit.”

Chuckling, the older male shook his head. “Not sneaking so much as needing to get to work. Shift starts early today, I’m taking over from the graveyard.”

“Mhm…” the sniper hummed in understanding. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

“Actually…” Tiran began, taking a half pace forwards and tilting his head away from him to expose his throat in a mild surrender. “I wanted to talk to you, apologise for my sister. She’s always been brash, but never intention-”

He stopped when Garrus held his hand up in the Hierarchy symbol of silence. His own head tilted in mild confusion, “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“But… she… I…” he stammered, talons rising to rub the charred plate edge on his chest. “I wanted to make a good impression, and my grandmother had to stop her. I’m sorry.”

The sniper released a long breath, taking his time choosing the right words. He stepped forwards, placing a warm hand on the older male’s shoulder. “You made your impression the moment I saw Sol look at you. You saved her. And… If she’s chosen you? Then there isn’t a damn thing I can do to change her mind anyways.”

He huffed a small laugh, returning the friendly gesture as he nodded in agreement. “I guess you’re right about that.”

“I’m always right about Sol,” Garrus let his shoulder go, stepping back to a more relaxed distance and watching the doctor calm a little further now that his fear of rejection by his potential mate’s family was assuaged.

“I -  _ cough  _ \- should get going, but I would like to get to know you properly, if you’ll let me. Adrien too.”

He nodded, stepping out of his way and towards his own room. “I’d like that.”

Tiran acknowledged him with a warm hum of his sub vocals, and Garrus watched him walk away. Eyes tracing the additional scars on his back before they disappeared under his shirt as he dragged it over his arms. The scars weren’t as extensive as his own, but they were still fresh. He couldn’t stop his disjoined sub harmonics from betraying his distress as the doctor rounded the corner.

Visual evidence that he hadn’t done enough. 

With a long drawn out sigh he shook it off, smoothing a taloned hand along the length of his fringe. Self pity wasn’t going to get him anywhere, and he needed to be a little stronger for his mate. Adrien didn’t need to be dealing with him falling apart all the time. He was the Primarch. Regardless of his reassurances, Garrus knew that he needed a solid presence behind him. He’d been alone for far too long without one. 

Pressing a taloned hand against the door panel, he waited for the door to slide open. Sky-blue eyes scanned the room, it was just bright enough to see everything clearly now. His shoulders relaxed as he laid eyes on his mate’s still sleeping form. Adrien was curled around the pillows he’d used overnight, which he guessed were still warm, turian fabrics designed to hold onto heat for a long time.

Near soundless, he dropped the robe to the floor and padded over to the bed. Slipping in behind his mate this time, the soft blankets wound around him pleasant in their smell as they encased him in their sleep made warmth. 

Adrien stirred when Garrus pressed his nose to the back of his neck. Allowing his mate’s unique scent to rid him of any remaining self-doubt. They were still here. Palaven was standing. His immediate family was alive and thriving. That was all that mattered. 

The elder male sighed comfortable note, stretching out in Garrus’ arms and rolling onto his back as he began waking up. The younger male didn’t give him enough time to say anything, instead pressing his own light grey mouth plates to his mate’s darker ones. Stealing a solid taste of morning Reverie to both greet his mate and settle the last inklings of doubt.

By the time he pulled away, Adrien was humming, a perfect picture of relaxation and pliancy underneath him. His talons traced long lines along his spine that were soft enough to make Garrus shiver. “Good morning, love. What was that for?”

“Nothing in particular,” Garrus replied in a velvet tone, nuzzling his crest against his partner’s. “Sorry to wake you.”

The older turian pulled up his omnitool, glancing at the time before hitting the off key. “No matter, I should be getting up soon regardless. You’ve already been up?”

“Mhm. Was hungry,” he explained and at the concerned expression on Adrien’s face, he elaborated. “Already had a bar. I’m fine. But I think I could go for some kava, you?”

The Primarch pushed himself up, reaching high above his head to pull the night’s tension from his shoulders. “Now that, is the best thing I’ve heard all day.”

“I’ve got one better…”

“Hm?”

Garrus reached out, taking hold of his cheek as he brought their mouths a bare few centimeters apart. “I love you,” he whispered before sliding his tongue into his mate’s mouth again. After a short time he pulled away, a cocky tilt to his mandibles.

“You make a good point,” Adrien grinned at him, tapping their crests together before he slid out of bed to find his clothing. 

“Those need a wash if you’re going straight to the office,” Garrus mentioned as headed for the closet. He found a second robe and tossed it to the elder male before picking up his own and shrugging it on. The lithe male crossed the handful of steps between them, taking the dirty formalwear from his talons. 

Adrien blinked at him a few times, but relinquished the clothing. “Really Garrus-”

“What?”

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll stop by my apartment, fetch something else.”

With a quick shake of his head, the younger turian turned away. Moving back to the bed to pull away the soiled sheets from their reunion. “It’ll only take twenty minutes or so, and I’d rather have more of the morning with you... if that’s alright.”

Arms encircled him, and Adrien’s warm rumble of appreciation fell into his ear as he nuzzled his crest to the unscarred side of his face. “Of course it is. Just didn’t expect you to get all domestic on me,” he teased, his tone light.

Garrus chuffed. “I’m full of surprises. Just you wait.”

“I can’t wait to find them all. This is -” he paused, seeming to take his time finding the words as he pressed his bare chest against Garrus’ back. “-just perfect, love. Thank you.” 

He backed off then, and together they headed for the bathroom. While Adrien went through his morning routine, Garrus threw the laundry into the automated cleaning unit. Setting it up for a quick spin before fetching his mate and leading the way to the  _ Caman _ . 

It was empty upon their arrival, although the rich scent of fresh kava was there to greet them. Padding over to the warmer, the slender turian fetched two turian styled mugs from the cupboard. They were a cool aquamarine with a soft white pattern painted onto them, a tapered edge accommodated mouth plates better than the smooth mugs they’d used on the  _ Normandy. _ Garrus paused after pouring the steaming liquid into the two vessels. His brow knitting as he wracked his brain, trying to remember what Adrien took in his, if anything. 

Coming up with nothing, he twisted his head around to look at his mate. “Sorry… uh… do you want something in it?”

“Clear is fine,” Adrien replied, taking a step closer to reach around him and fetch his hot drink. “We missed out on this part,” he lamented as he leaned back against the island countertop, sending a cooling breath across the top of his mug.

“Hmn... that’s a fair point,” the younger turian hummed back, adding a heaping spoon of sweetener to his own kava before turning to lean across the small gap between the counters. “Back at C-Sec you learned to take it every way-” he smiled at the memory, “-whenever my boss, T’Klea, brought in kava she’d only let you have some if you drank it clear. And my human partner always brought back something he called a double-double, tastes a little weird at first but you get used to it.”

“I understand the first double… but the second?”

He shrugged, taking a sip. “You honestly don’t want to know. I asked Kadian about it once… the answer was unexpected and to be honest? A little disgusting.”

Adrien laughed, bright and easy. “And given the choice?”

“Just a hint of sweetener usually, but the doc wants me to add extra calories wherever I can... so a heaping scoop it is.”

“Mhm. I’m more one for consistency, clear is my preference. Doesn’t matter if it's straight out of an MRE or from the best shop in Cipritine.” He took a small sip, humming a pleased note as he pulled away. “Oh… that’s good.”

Garrus snorted against the rim of his own mug. “Keep making noises like that and I might get jealous.”

“Oh really?” he chuckled, placing his cup down with a gentle clink against the stone countertop and taking a step forwards to pin Garrus’ hips against the hard surface with his own. “And why’s that…”

They came together only for a minute before Adrien backed off again, just long enough to make Garrus a little breathless for his reply. “And you call me insatiable,” he chuckled.

“If I didn’t need to leave then I’d show you just how  _ insatiable  _ I can be.”

+-+-+-+-

The training hall was empty when he arrived. Adrien was gone and with it being so early no one else was up yet. Trebia’s rays were just starting to light the gym equipment, the metal bars reflecting sunlight and long shadows were cast across the padded flooring. He switched on the overhead lighting, his visor covered eye scanning the vaulted ceiling and the line of windows a few metres above his head. 

Telemetry scrolled across the familiar blue-tinted screen, the standard outputs of temperature and humidity were followed by the available commands for the room’s wireless controls. Everything synced beautifully, as though he’d never left.

Traditional styling had been forgone in this wing of the  _ maldis _ , although the exterior matched the rest of the compound, the interior did not. It was all sleek lines and modern amenities. The equipment had been installed when he reached his training years, being the eldest of his family cohort that was the most appropriate time for an overhaul. His father had even sprung for an extensive sound system, one that, with his visor’s assistance, he now had control of. A couple of flicks of his eye and the press of a button had his playlist started.

“Much better,” he grinned.

Garrus began his routine with a few stretches, limbering up in his warm sweater and loose training pants until his temperature rose enough to make the chilled room comfortable. Doctor Imari had given him a decent starting point back on the Citadel, but now that he was alone it was easier to modify her routine a little to suit his usual training practices.

The amount of weight stayed about the same, but he increased the repetitions of each of the primary exercises until the last one was a struggle to accomplish. By the time he’d finished the first sets his muscles burned and his breaths became heavy and difficult. His light shirt was drenched with sweat, and without thinking he tossed it into the corner while he took a long drink of water. 

Rolling out his shoulder he stepped back into the power rack, aligning his back underneath the long straight bar while he braced himself and then stood up to full height. The extra ninety kilos on his back should have been easy to squat with, only a little more than his current body weight, but it was excruciating by the sixth and final repetition. He stumbled back into the safeties, only letting go of the bar long enough to get out from underneath it and lean against the supports.

“You alright?” a dual-toned voice called out from the gym’s entrance. 

His head shot up at the intrusion, the music and his focus during the movement had hidden their entry. Two turians stood stock still, neither of which he recognized. They did however seem to understand that keeping their distance was prudent. 

“Fine…” he called back, standing to full height again while clicking the volume of the music down a few notches. His silhouette a little more imposing against the other two despite his heaving chest and overly lean stature. Neither of them could have been more than a metre and three quarters tall, whereas he towered at just over two.

The one who hadn’t spoken yet, a tawny-brown plated female took a few paces forwards. Her attire lent evidence to her belonging here somehow, that she was there to train. As did the male’s now that Garrus’ eyes scanned him as well. 

She sensed his question, undertones placating in her voice as she spoke. “My name’s Tess Verez, this is my brother Seekim,” she gestured back towards him while keeping her eyes on the grey plated male. “You must be Solana’s brother. Your family has been kind enough to allow us to stay here, we didn’t mean to intrude.”

“Garrus,” the sniper offered in greeting, accepting her explanation.

“Nice to meet you,” Seekim replied, his eyes were purposefully not staring at the scars on his bare chest, instead the older looking male kept his focus higher up on his visor covered eye. “We can come back later…”

“There’s plenty of room,” he interrupted, waving a hand across the length of the training hall. And indeed there was, 50 by 15 metres, it was an enormous space. A rubberized track surrounded the perimeter of the room, just inside of it were three marked out pads for sparring, four cages identical to the one Garrus stood in and an array of benches and other equipment. It was by far large enough for three.

“You’re sure?” Tess asked, sounding uncertain of his offer.

Garrus attempted a smile, his mandibles tilting to a more friendly lilt. “As long as you don’t mind my music? Then you’re welcome.”

“I can work with that,” she laughed, bright and easy, walking further into the space and dropping her bag just inside the track. Seekim nodded to him in thanks and joined his sister. Before long they were circling the room at a jog, and Garrus was left to his routine.

As the sounds of Expel Ten came over the speakers, the sniper let himself get back into the rhythm of his workout. The next set wasn’t quite as painful as the last, and it could only get better from here. 

+-+-+-+

An hour and a half later, Garrus was alone in his room. Sprawled on his back in the middle of the freshly made bed, staring at the familiar clean lines of his bedroom’s ceiling. Sunlight was flickering in from the open curtains, warming his shower dampened, bare hide as much as the residual dryer heat did from the sheets below him.

He sighed, closing his eyes and running his talons over his face. It had been a long, long time since he didn’t have somewhere to go or something to do. Sure, he’d had downtime on the  _ Normandy _ after the war ended, but he figured that didn’t count since at the time he was also slowly starving himself to death. 

Now… there were no cases to solve, guns or tanks to calibrate, enemies to fight. There were just orders to rest, train, and eat. 

Stomach still full of breakfast, and ration bars within easy reach, the sniper decided to belay lunch for an hour to catch a quick nap. If he was honest with himself, the day before had taken a lot out of him. Between travelling, meeting Tiran’s family and a  _ very  _ enthusiastic reunion, he was exhausted. 

The leg workout hadn’t helped much either… although it had been nice to interact with Tess and Seekim. They at least hadn’t witnessed his outburst the night prior, and had nothing to apologise for save their accidental intrusion. Tess was still in her mandatory service and was awaiting reassignment, Seekim was the heavy machine mechanic Sol mentioned. As such, chatting with them was much easier than it had been with Tiran’s family. Months of working on the Mako made him a great conversationalist when it came to it.

Easy chatter helped, as did their manners. They both knew enough not to stare and not to ask about his scars or the war.

Setting his omnitool’s alarm, he let himself drift off. Adrien’s pillow pulled tight against his chest, the lingering smell helping to calm his mind. He was asleep in minutes.

Sometime later he was awoken to a loud * _ Ping* _ sound. Garrus’ hindbrain responded faster than anything else, and he shot up before rolling off the bed and to his feet. Scanning the room for hostiles, and finding none. His growl subsided as he listened, hearing nothing but the pounding of blood in his ears.

A few seconds later, the  _ *Ping* _ sounded again, and he realised in his sleepy haze that it was the door panel. Someone wanted to come in. He relaxed a fraction, feeling a little stupid for the panic as the room came back into focus. 

He was at home. He was safe. 

Clearing his throat and dropping his hands to his sides, he called out, “Coming!” as he crossed to the door. It slid open to admit his father, who was wearing a concerned expression on his mandibles. 

“Garrus, is everything alright?” he asked taking in his son’s bedraggled appearance. “I didn’t see you at breakfast.” The sniper stepped back from the door, allowing his father inside. The elder male walked passed him to lean back against his desk, arms crossed over his chest as he waited for an answer. 

“I ate earlier, before Adrien left. He was gone before Nanus rose this morning.” 

“Mhm...“ he hummed in understanding. “Is he coming back tonight?”

Garrus shook his head. “Actually, I’m going to meet him this evening. Have to head into Cipritine regardless to meet with the doctor that Imari recommended-” the pinched look on Castis’ face made him stop. “What?”

He sighed, one hand rising to press against his nasal ridge as he picked over his words. The gesture was familiar to the ex-detective, it was the same one his father used to make when he was young. The one that meant he was trying to find a better way to say he disapproved.  “You’re sure you’re ready to handle that alone, son?”

“I’ve got incentive,” Garrus replied with a steady voice, steel-blue eyes locked onto the elder’s matching ones.

“You had incentive yesterday, at the Spaceport.” Castis reminded him.

“Yesterday seems a long way off, dad. Honestly, I’m fine.” The Vakarian scion reassured him, mandibles trying to push off the smile at his father’s concern. “At dinner Solana mentioned that she’s heading into the city for work and dropping Zen off for his shift at the hospital, I was planning to go with them.”

The Clan leader sighed, the apprehension vivid in place of the turian male’s usual stoic mannerism. “I know it seems ridiculous of me to be worried about you now, Garrus. But I am. A lot has been happening on Palaven and you’re not aware of much of it yet.”

“What kinds of things?” he asked with honest curiosity and only a hint of hesitance. 

The grey plated male was silent for a moment more before humming to himself, apparently having made a decision. “I suppose you’ll find out soon enough,” Castis said as he pulled up his omnitool and pressed a few of the haptic keys. Garrus’ own tool pinged, but he left it closed for the moment. Instead waiting on an explanation. “That should cover the worst of it. Not everyone agrees that uniting is the best course.”

“Uniting…” the sniper repeated, picking up on the larger issue at hand immediately. “With other species or within ourselves?”

“Hm… both I suppose. But the greater push is within the colonies. There was backlash when Altakiril fell to Reaper bombardment, worse came when remaining forces were pulled off of Taetrus to assist on Palaven and Earth.”

Garrus blew out a sharp breath, anger rising slightly. “Bastards… if we hadn’t done that then we’d probably all be dead.”

“You don’t need to justify yourself to me.”

“Right,” he relaxed his shoulders, the tension slowly seeping out of him. “Send me whatever you can, I’d like to get ahead of this.”

“Garrus…” Castis began, his sub vocals edging towards a reprimand. “You need to focus on healing, not post-war efforts.”

“Dad I-”

“No,” his father cut him off with a swipe of his hand. “I won’t hear it anymore than Adrien will. Until you’re cleared there’s nothing you need to worry about.”

Garrus laughed despite himself. “Already throwing his name in my face?”

“If I have to,” Castis replied with a wry smile. 

“Alright then,” he held up his hands in surrender, conceding defeat for now. “No work, until I’m cleared. Although… I’d still like to read up on the news, I’ve been gone too long.”

“Mhn… and it’s good to have you home.”

+-+-+-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it. =D


	21. Threads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even outside of battle, old skills have their uses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm late! But it's still Thursday somewhere I suppose? 
> 
> Biggest of hearts for these two:  
> [ **Kuraiummei**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuraiummei/pseuds/Kuraiummei) and [**Spicy_Gnome**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Spicy_Gnome/pseuds/Spicy_Gnome): For the beta and writing assistance!

Hiding in plain sight turned out to be easy once Garrus arrived at the hospital. Despite his initial reluctance to stow his visor as Solana had suggested, it was having the intended effect. As did the fringe scarf he wore that covered the majority of his scaring. The faded cobalt blue of his colony markings didn’t stand out as much here among the chaos of an overstuffed turian hospital in the middle of Cipritine, not as distinctly as they had at the Spaceport, at least. 

Most of the other patrons had some kind of visible ailment, and though he fit right in it tore at him to see so many in such straits. The sniper had known things were rough on Palaven, but seeing it first hand made his gizzard burn. Six weeks and the hospital was shining a purple light above the doors, signalling that they were full to the brim and had patients waiting for beds. Filled as fast as they could be emptied.

Garrus shoved the heavy thoughts away as he followed Tiran’s father Zen inside the hospital, the elder turian leading him in the employee’s side entrance. “It’ll be easier this way,” the onyx-plated male had told him.

“I’m not looking for special treatment….” 

“No, and I understand that, but this is for your good as much as it is for everyone else’s. The doctors need to attend their patients, and patients need quiet to rest. All it would take is one person to recognize you to incite interest. Scavengers frequent the public entrance, best to avoid it. No offence, Garrus.”

“None taken… and thanks.”

Still a little reluctant, Garrus agreed and let himself be led to security. The security system scanned his guide, then him with a faint green light. He could tell when the guard on duty recognized his name, but thankfully the older female said nothing, merely waving them along. Tiran’s father escorted the scarred sniper straight through to his doctor’s office before leaving him with a promise to send one of the other family members along to pick him up afterwards.

The insider knowledge of less populated routes had been... invaluable, really.

Doctor Mephran was a quiet sort, the turian waved him inside of the absurdly small space he was using as an office, which appeared to have been a storage closet if the lingering chemical smell was any indication. The investigator in Garrus noticed that the doctor had a slight limp as he led the way inside and gestured to the two metal chairs that sat opposite one another on either end of a clean metal desk.

“So tell me Advisor,” he began as they sat, speaking in the even tone that all doctors seemed to share. “How’ve you been progressing?”

Garrus took a moment to look around the space as he contemplated his response. Oddly, there wasn’t a speck of personal touch in the office, no spare datapad left out, nor adornments on the walls. Not even the certifications and medical diagrams that one came to expect in a doctor’s office. Garrus kept himself from expressing his disquiet with the stark environment, turning to finally answer the question with an equally professional tone. “I’ve been following Doctor Imari’s program. It’s working.”

“To the letter?” the doctor asked, flicking through a few notes on his omnitool. “I see you were having some trouble with the caloric requirements.”

The sniper made a noncommittal hand gesture, giving a slight acknowledgement that even his best effort hadn’t been perfect. “I’m used to it now. Found what works. Keeping it down.”

“Good, good. Do you feel any changes should be made to the routine? Is anything proving to be more difficult to do that expected?”

“No, everything’s on track.”

Doctor Mephran gave him a dubious look, tongue clicking at his laconic answers, but eventually he nodded. They moved on to a few other pointed questions, and even looped back around to ask  the same things in different ways. Tactics that probably helped him hone in on his patient’s needs, but useless when talking to a detective.

They continued back and forth as the elderly torin tried to break past his barriers and get answers he didn’t care to share. Overall Mephran was efficient, not as personable as Imari but the sniper welcomed that. He’d had enough parenting doctors over the years… Karin Chakwas the worst culprit of them all, much as he was fond of the sharp-witted human woman. Her compassion had been at times welcome, and at others stifling. 

The well spoken physician carried on, talking him through an update to his meal plan, and giving him some additional supplements. “Just the physical exam left,” Mephran told him as he stood on stiff legs while gesturing towards the unused exam table that made up the room’s only remaining furnishing. “Tunic off, sit facing the door.”

A silver-grey crest dipped in acknowledgment as Garrus stood and did as asked, his jaw clamped shut and eyes staring forwards as he sat down. 

“Vakarian,” the other male said by way of getting his attention, sighing softly. He looked over to see the doctor lift his pant leg a fraction showing off the prosthetic limb that evidently caused his limp. “You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of around me. Lost it during the relay 314 incident, now I work mainly with veterans. Talk if you wish, stay silent if you must.”

Garrus swallowed the lump that had grown in his throat as he nodded. His voice was hesitant as he spoke. “Been living with this a long time,” he explained waving with his good arm towards the scars. “Prefer not showing them off.”

“Mmhm. You could have some of them repaired…” the doctor suggested as he pulled on a pair of gloves and began palpating over his scars, new and old. Gentle, brisk fingers worked over  prosthetic plate, checking their condition over his shoulder and around the joints. “ ...is there a reason you haven’t?

“It wasn’t a priority,” Garrus answered, trying not to wince at his own curt word choice. It was… telling, and he really didn’t want to talk about it.

A few minutes passed in silence before Mephran moved away, finishing the examination with a test of his reflexes. “That’s all for today. I’d like to see you weekly for a few months, and then reassess your progress.However, before you leave today I think seeing a specialist about that arm of yours is in order. Even if you’re satisfied with it, it will need work in the future, and having someone become familiar with it now will pay dividends.” 

The former detective watched his doctor cross to the desk, taking up a  datapad to type something on it, one handed. Probably esoteric notes about his health that he didn’t really care to know. He turned away, grabbing for his shirt.

“If the woman who installed my cybernetics couldn’t make them better than they are now? I sincerely doubt anyone can. ” 

Mephran glanced up at him, a half smile sitting on his mandibles. “At least let this one have look at your arm. I won’t force anything on you if you choose not to act on my advice, you will always have the right to refuse treatment, but my recommendation for light duty next week relies on you having the consult.”

Garrus’ mandibles pulled in tight to his face. The threat mild, but aggravating. “Fine.”

+-+-+

The sniper followed Doctor Mephran’s instructions to get to the next ward over. Two sets of stairs and a hallway led him to the cosmetic surgery wing of the hospital, much to his displeasure. 

The ward was as overrun by patients as the rest of the hospital was, although those here were all in need of reconstructive surgeries, plate grafts, or cybernetics. He stepped through an archway with some benefactor’s name scrawled above it in turian common dialect and made his way to the reception desk.

“Good afternoon sir,” the bright-eyed orderly greeted. “Is there something I can assist you with?” 

Garrus stepped closer to the desk, passing over the datapad Mephran had given him. “I’m here for a consult,” he replied shortly.

She looked down at the datapad and her mandibles shifted into a momentary frown before she self-corrected back to a neutral expression. “Of course, sir. You can have a seat, I’ll call the doctor for you.”

He nodded in agreement and stepped back to stand in an open space along the wall, allowing others to bypass him. A few minutes went by before a familiar face appeared beside the reception desk. The Advisor steeled his features when the receptionist pointed the doctor in his direction.

“Advisor Vakarian,” Voss Melandra began in a warm tone, any hint of the argument from the day before hidden from her sub vocals. “If you’ll follow me.”

“He grunted in acknowledgment, wary of her even as he began following a generous distance behind. “Your... office?” he asked with a growing, displeased suspicion.

“Mhm…” she intoned. “I  _ am _ one of the best cybernetics surgeons on Palaven after all.” The sniper stopped dead in the tracks. 

It took a few moments for Voss to realize that he’d done so, though when she did, she turned back, a brazen smile spreading across her mandibles. “You know, I noticed the way your mandible twitches when you flare it, how your hand quivers when you’ve got tension in your shoulders.”

Her eyes traced the length of his arm, settling on his hand… which was indeed shaking.

“It’s fine,” he ground out while fighting the urge to hide it behind his back, like a child would with a broken toy. 

“Not if you want to go back to sniping it isn’t,” the midnight-toned turian replied with an obnoxious, coy click of her mandibles against her picture perfect and likely artificial jawline. She smiled at him sweetly, spinning in place  and confidently continuing down the hallway, expecting him to follow.  Garrus had to suppress a low growl at her spirit’s damned attitude. 

Voss never turned back, but she did raise her voice slightly as she sashayed down the hall. “I promise I won’t bite… unless you want me to.”

Garrus scoffed, but he did start to walk again, as much as it pained him. Mephran had threatened to delay his reinstatement if he didn’t go through with the consult… and Adrien needed him. At the very worst, it was just a damn consult. She could jabber all she liked, and he could always decline.

That was enough to spur him onwards.

Though he was reconciled to the waste of time, the turian Advisor couldn’t help but tense as he followed Tiran’s sister through the beautifully cared for halls and to her office. 

The door closed behind him and they were left alone in her well appointed office. It was a stark change from the makeshift appointment room he’d been in not ten minutes prior. Garrus had hoped that wasn’t where doctor Mephran spent most of his time, and that it was just a temporary space for his privacy’s sake… but he had his doubts, and this exorbitant space only highlighted the general ward’s overtaxed state.

“Please, take a seat, sit,” Voss appealed in a pleasant tone, and though she phrased it as a request, the sub vocals made it come out more like an order. 

Garrus squinted at her but moved to do so with reluctance, eyeing the sleek equipment with aggravation. At a glance it felt like this ward had more upscale furnishings and modern medical devices than the rest of the hospital put together, likely paid for with private funds from non-Hierarchy covered medical expenses, and that was…  _ not _ in the spirit of supporting their people’s needs. The dichotomy was unfair, and something he considered talking to Adrien about. If it was a problem here… in what other sectors were things not being shared, and shared alike?

Feeling more aggravated by the minute, Garrus stared blankly out the private sixth floor office’s window, eyes tracing the cityscape as Tiran’s sister approached. It would have been a beautiful view had it been a year ago. 

Voss moved directly in front of him, smiling provocatively as she flashed him a little bit of the soft hide of her inner wrist. “I’d like to help you, Garrus. Honestly, I would.”

He turned away to look at the the far side of the room, where a wooden desk sat, a monument to high gloss and organization. On the edge was a holo-frame of Voss arm-in-arm with what looked like an eclectic variety of vid stars and pop artists. He chuffed dismissively. “At what cost?” 

Voss didn’t seem to understand what he meant, because she replied, “Pro-bono of course!” He huffed a breath, shaking his head. Garrus stared at her for a moment, waiting to see if she pick up on it. Or perhaps she understood perfectly, and just wanted to play her flirting games a little longer. 

He gave up waiting to find out, instead gesturing to the holo frame and verbally clarifying. “I didn’t mean  _ credits,  _ Melandra.”

“Well… there certainly is mutual benefit to be found if we cooperate. My reputation skyrockets, and I get access to your medical records, to see what that  _ human  _ put into you. Make it- ahem,  _ you _ ... better.”

“That human has a name,” he replied through clenched teeth.

Voss blinked at him, tilting her head vapidly and dismissing the detail with an absent flick of wrist. “Some human’s name doesn’t concern me. What does is the hardware they installed. Let me take a look?”

“Right. I’ll consider it,” Garrus began standing and was about to make for the door when the female’s voice fell soft, an honestly plaintive note threading into her sub vocals.

“I know you need this consult to get back to active duty. At the least let me look at your arm and mandible, give me a starting point for my research…It’ll let you complete Mephran’s orders, and you… you really won't be able to aim with your arm like it is.”

Stopping, he turned his gaze back on the keen turian. That was the sincerest sentence he’d heard from her thus far. Hell,  _ ever.  _ The sniper considered ignoring her, but the thought of more downtime… more time not helping his mate? He exhaled slowly, and sat back down. In the back of his mind, in a dark and blue-tinged corner, he recognized that there would always be threats to his friends and family. He didn’t just  _ want _ to be able to shoot again, he  _ needed _ to be able to.  

His right hand clenched into a fist, staving off the tremor.

Voss trilled, probably sensing that she had him backed into a self-made corner. 

“How about this? I know no one likes the exam table. Come over here, you’ll be more comfortable in the sunshine, hmm?” She directed him to the comfortable looking wingback chair sitting in front of the window. A lamp on one side, Trebia’s rays on the other. Once he was seated, she turned away. 

“If you’ll remove your tunic I can get started,” she crossed back to her desk to pick up a scanner and put on a medical visor. By the time she turned back around Garrus had done as she’d asked and was sitting looking out the window in silence.

The change in the cybernetics expert’s breathing was more than enough for him to know she was disgusted by what she saw. Whether it was the extent of scars that dragged down his shoulder and across his chest, or if it was his spindly and sickly looking frame, he didn’t care to know. 

A few minutes went by in silence as Garrus allowed her to take a few scans. The quietude only broken when she requested he raise his arm and then in succession flex the muscles in his talons, hand, wrist, and arm. The sniper grit his teeth as he realised how little freedom his wrist had to move, how his talons couldn’t relax all the way. It made him sick to his stomach.

Her hummed fascination with the integration of his cybernetics didn’t help. It was too quiet. The walls of her office were well soundproofed considering the numerous patients just outside the doors couldn’t be heard. 

“I was serious last night,” she began with an absent voice, her eyes focused on her task as she moved on to prod his damaged mandible. “I do know a couple of cosmetic surgeons that could help you. Give you more realistic looking prosthetic plates. Clench your teeth for me...”

Garrus’ eyes narrowed as he glared out the window, obeying her request and using it as an excuse not to reply.

“If you don’t care about the aesthetic, then you might appreciate getting some sensation back.” She tapped the artificial plate over his deltoid with a gloved talon. “Relax your mandible now.” 

It took a moment, but he did release his jaw. “I haven’t exactly had time to worry about aesthetics… if you hadn’t noticed there was a war going on.”

Her eyes flashed up to his, brow raised in curiosity. “The worst of these are probably two years old, maybe older. The war took less than a year.”

“Your point?” he asked, voice flat and colourless.

Voss chuckled, as her hand slid along the edge of his prosthetic and along the sensitive scarred hide leading up the side of his neck. “You’re so uptight. Pity you won’t let me help with that.” 

Fighting his urge to recoil, he instead focused on keeping his voice even. “Are you done?”

“Just about,” she hummed, moving back enough to type a couple notes on her datapad. “My point is... that if you didn’t feel like you deserved these scars then you would have made time to have them removed, or at least you’d’ve done the sensible thing and had them looked at by a turian medical professional. Your humans? They’ve left a mess.”

“Those humans? Saved my life.” Garrus bit out, anger rising.

But Voss had a temper too, she scoffed. “I’ll agree with that statement. Yes. They saved your life. But what kind of doctor would intentionally leave their patient in constant pain?” 

“What?” She reached for him again, pressing the point of her talon against the cybernetic hub that Miranda had embedded into his shoulder years ago. His arm went suddenly numb and he jerked back. 

“What the fuck did you just do?” he half yelled, taking his damaged right hand into his left and rubbing his thumb against his palm, attempting to bring feeling back into it. Fighting the urge to lash out at her.

“That’s all it took to shut off the superficial part of your radial nerve,” the midnight-toned turian told him without malice. “I’m surprised you didn’t have it go out on you accidentally. But the point of that was for you to stop for a moment, how do you feel?”

The sniper’s eyes snapped up. “What are you talking about?”

“Answer my question. Does it hurt?”

“No.”

“Good, now I’m going to put it back.”

“Like hell you are…” he stood up, backing away from the too forward female. 

Her arms crossed over her keel. “Yes I am. Because I’m the only person in this sector, turian or otherwise, that  _ can _ fix it. Let me show you the difference, please. I do know what I’m doing.”

Garrus couldn’t stop the growl, but he did sit back down. “Got a real fucking funny way of showing it.” He let her work on the hub again, reluctant but without other options. 

“There we go…” she hummed after an indeterminable number of minutes. “Ready? This is going to sting.” At his nod a tiny buzzing noise came from his shoulder and white-hot pain followed it, he gripped the arm of the chair tight enough for it to creak underneath his hand. His talons ripping the reinforced cloth. “There. You’re back to where you were five minutes ago.”

A solid minute passed by before Garrus regained the ability to speak and the urge to hit Voss passed. “What was the point of that?” he asked in a hiss.

“My point? Is this next part. If you’ll let me.”

“Why should I?” He stood, backing away while beginning to pull on his tunic. “You’ve done nothing but insult me and my mate. Mess with my shoulder.” 

Her mandibles quirked to the side, sub vocals expressing confusion. “Am I really so abrasive?”

“Yes.”

“Hm… no one’s ever told me that before.”

Garrus stared at her for a moment, eyes devoid of expression. “Really?”

She looked up at him, arms crossing over her keel. “Really.” Voss waited a moment before speaking again, actually taking time to think before she spoke. “I will…  _ try _ … to be better.”

The Advisor nodded and sat back down, allowing her back at his shoulder. He figured there wasn’t much worse she could do, and considering he’d likely be seeing more of the female what with her being Tiran’s sister, he decided to let her have one more chance. The fact she seemed to understand what Miranda had done to him, didn’t hurt either. The feeling had been the exact same as the previous two times he’d had the cybernetics connected. 

Another tiny ping sounded about five minutes later, but this time it didn’t hurt.

“That’s it. Raise your arm for me again?” The look he gave her was skeptical, but he did lift his arm up as he’d done a few minutes before. Voss brought up her scanner, sliding it along the limb before she let his arm go with a satisfied noise. “Flex your wrist.”

He looked at her, the confusion on his face obvious. But when she encouraged him again, he flexed and to his surprise he had full range of motion back. “What the hell…”

“The pain level will be lower now as well,” Voss told him. Her expression proud and superior.

“It didn’t hurt before,” the sniper replied, sub vocals betraying his honesty as he clenched and released his fist a few times. The surprise not yet gone from his eyes.

She shook her head in agitation, removing the medical gloves that covered her hands. “That’s what you think. You just don’t remember what pain-free feels like, and how could you? You’ve been living with your reality fo-... sorry,” she stopped, realising that her words weren’t having their intended effect. She cleared her throat and began anew. “My hypothesis is the burns masked the nerve pain until you got used to it. I can fix you, Garrus.” 

Her bare hand slid up his bad arm, stopping over the cybernetic hub where she tapped a manicured talon a few times against it, precariously close to the connector she’d just finished fixing.

The sniper was about to reply when the door to Voss’ office slid open, the doorway soon filled with a very distressed looking Tiran. “Garrus, thank the spirits I’ve found you…”

“Close the door!” Voss hissed at him. “Can’t you see I’m with a client?”

He stepped the rest of the way inside, only now noticing Garrus’ state of undress. The door slid closed behind him and he took a few confident paces forwards. “Client? Voss… leave him alone. You’ve done enough.”

“He’s here of his own volition.”

“Rigghhhtt… and my plates are white.”

Garrus watched the two of them bicker back and forth, a vivid reminder of how he and Solana once interacted with one another. A reminder of the time he’d lost out on. Shaking it off, he began pulling his shirt back on and interjected before the argument could gain any heat.

“Tiran, she’s telling the truth.” 

The charcoal plated male relaxed a smidgen, turning towards him with a sigh. “Well that’s a relief at least. Unfortunately, the reason I needed to find you is that the media figured out you’re here. Security is keeping them off the premises, but I’m fairly certain that they’ll have all the exits covered. I was honestly here to ask Voss how she usually gets her clients out…”

Both males turned towards the turian in question. Her expression twisted, mandibles flaring and relaxing as she considered his request. “Three methods; aircar from the roof which we don’t have quick access to, walking out the front doors in disguise but they’ll be wise to that, or we wait it out.”

“Shit,” Tiran swore as he paced towards the window to look out at the ruined skyline. His crest knocked lightly against the reinforced glass before he turned back towards the others. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to wait?”

Garrus’ mandibles slid into an easy grin. “Not a chance.” He stood, finished clasping his tunic and headed for the door. “Voss, my next appointment with Mephran is in four days, I’ll see you then.” He didn’t wait for an acknowledgment, just reached into his pocket and lifted his visor out of it to place back over his eye, feeling more himself in that moment than he had in the past few months. “Tiran, thanks for the heads up.”

“Garrus wait!” the male called out after him, following him out the door at a hurried walk. Catching him halfway down the ward and keeping pace with him. His voice was hushed as he questioned the younger male. “How are you going to get out of here?”

“Sol must have mentioned that I’m a sniper,” the blue-eyed male voiced, waiting for Tiran’s nod before he continued. “We’re not just skilled at getting into a nest, we need to get out of them too.” They’d reached a stairwell, and Garrus took a moment to click through a few options on his visor before pushing the door open and stepping in the way of the arch. “I’ll message you when I’m clear.”

His green eyes narrowed in confusion before a ping went off on the older male’s omnitool. He looked down to see the Vakarian scion’s contact information pop up on his haptic screen. “Is there anyth-” he began, but stopped when he realised that Garrus had already disappeared from sight, without a sound. “Damn…”

The sniper had to stifle his laugh from the next floor down where he was busy putting a virus into the hospital’s security system. Not a particularly lethal one, just one that would go in and erase every second of him from it’s logs and feeds before sitting dormant until he needed it again. It had taken him and Weaver months to build it back on Omega. The useful little program had been hand written, line by line, and then bandaged over a thousand times in two entirely different coding languages. It was impossible to reproduce. EDI had tried.  

He snuck through a few additional hallways, picking up a doctor’s jacket to slip over his street clothing, which consisted of a pair of fitted black pants, leather boots and a dark grey tunic that was a little big on him. His visor was obvious but invaluable as he keyed it for heat signatures, allowing him to slip unnoticed through to the first floor on the far side of the hospital from Voss’ ward and into the public gardens through a window in an empty staff lounge.

The air was warm, the sun beginning to slide behind early afternoon cloud cover that looked likely to develop into a thunderstorm. He scanned the garden with keen eyes, dropped the doctor’s jacket on a bench and walked quickly through the courtyard towards the gates to the street. As Tiran had advertised, there were three media personnel with obvious cameras and he guessed that two more of the seven had hidden ones on their person.

‘ _ Overloading their electronics would be easier, and to be honest a lot more fun… _ ” he mused, dipping back behind a statue of some important long dead surgeon, he considered his other options. ‘ _ Alternatively I can talk to them… Pft… no... _ ’

He sighed and decided on option three. Avoiding them altogether. Garrus paced along the garden wall until he was around a corner from where the media personnel were standing, he looked up at the four metre high wall with a hint of displeasure. He’d made it over higher walls before… admittedly with more equipment but he’d also been a solid 50 kilos heavier with his armor on and rifles attached. 

Looking around, he found what he needed and got to work.

+-+-+-

Halfway across the city, Palaven’s Primarch had just finished his weekly conference with the other turian leaders, the cluster Primarchs. One for each of their twelve main colonies, seven of which, like himself, were new to their position. Of the remaining five, two were in the first five years of their term and the remaining three were veterans to the position holding steady after ten plus years. 

A Primacy was generally held for a long period of time, the average sat around twelve years if you discounted the outliers of Primarch Netuk, who only held office for three days before her assassination in the Unification Wars, and Primarch Onus who held office for thirty-three years until the first contact war began and he was forced out. Netuk was a shining example of turian leadership, taken too quickly from a fracturing people and Onus was an excellent Primarch in peacetime, but failed in war.

Adrien hoped he would live up to expectations, survive just as well in peace as he had in war. 

Closing his eyes, he took a deep steadying breath before using his omnitool to bring up the lights in the com-room. The chamber was barren, only the central dais sat within its windowless walls. The QEC controls glowing a mild blue still as the unit powered down, and he turned away from them. The eerie colour beginning to give him a headache as much as the arguments had in the hours he’d spent in conference. 

A few even paces had him at the doors, his boots clicking against the metal flooring as he was too tired to quiet his footsteps. The night prior had him exhausted, he hadn’t slept well in the first few hours. Too concerned with watching his mate, flinching awake every time he neared sleep to ensure he was still holding a solid form in his arms. Not just some figment of his imagination. 

Adrien rested his crest against the cool metal doors when he reached them, giving himself one more minute of quiet before he had to attend to his next task. He was reluctant, but after a moment he stood up straight again and hit the open key. 

As the door slid open he almost jumped. His assistant was waiting on the other side, hand poised over the call button.

“Sorry, sir.” Lieutenant Rebas apologised, backing off from the entryway.

“It’s fine. My office.” Victus told him as he began the short walk towards his private rooms. There were very few circumstances that the young officer would interrupt him for, and most of those were not for prying eyes and listening ears. The second the doors shut behind them, he turned around. “What do you have for me, Lieutenant?”

Rebas passed him, moving to the vidscreen that sat on left wall at the head of a small conference table. “A news report that I think you may find interesting, sir. All seems to be under control, which is why I didn’t bother you mid-meeting.” The tawny-brown turian pulled up his omnitool and set the recording to play on the larger screen.

Adrien watched with rapt attention as the headline scrolled across the bottom of the screen. Anxiety spreading at the words despite his aide’s reassurance. 

- **Expert Reaper Advisor - Garrus Vakarian - Returns to Palaven -**

The news reporter had already begun highlighting his mate’s service history, as was standard for reports relevant to military affairs, by the time Rebas had started the recording. They tuned in just in time for the basics of his standard service including military police schooling, then his Special Forces sniper designation - _ without an explanation of what he was doing, thankfully _ -. Before delving into his short, but glowing record as a C-Sec Officer and finally what they’d decided to call ‘multi-species initiatives’ working with the first human Spectre, John Shepard.

His hand grasped the back of one of the thick padded conference chairs as he watched the screen, weight resting on it as he leaned forwards to give his full attention to the vid. The news anchor’s image gave way to a shaky video from what looked like a packed que of turians. The features of the room were impossible to distinguish, what he could see was all muted colours and too bright lights.

_ “We have managed to procure personal omnitool footage from the Cipritine Spaceport where Advisor Vakarian was reported to have landed yesterday morning. This recording was taken in the customs line, where he was noticed and subsequently ushered forwards. In a moment you’ll hear the actual audio from the impromptu welcoming committee.” _

True to her word, the audio changed over from the matter-of-fact reporting voice of the reporter to the slightly staticy audio feed from the spaceport. Adrien watched with rapt attention as hands began to touch his mate’s and Castis’ shoulders as they passed through the compact space. The voices of those around them rose and fell together just as Garrus had explained to him. He couldn’t see their faces, but he understood the tight line of his mate’s shoulders all too well. 

When the video ended the news anchor came back on. 

“ _ Until an hour ago this was the only footage of Advisor Vakarian available since his reappearance on the Citadel three weeks ago. Hierarchy Military Headquarters has declined to provide additional information beyond stating that he is on medical leave. His condition is not currently known, but earlier today we have two reported sightings from Mnemosyne Memorial Hospital.” _

An image of Garrus appeared on the screen, one that had been taken from an odd angle that was much too low, as it made him appear to tower over the camera. He was looking away from the person taking the picture, appearing to be speaking with a familiar looking dark toned female - _ Voss _ \- his mind supplied.

“ _ The following video was captured later, reports are not confirmed yet but it appears that Advisor Vakarian’s special forces skills have not gone to waste in the past two months of inactivity.” _

The screen flipped again, this time a steadier camera shot a video looking down into a garden filled courtyard. The amature cameraman was yammering on about what the strange turian outside was doing. Much to Adrien’s amusement, he watched on as his mate took a running jump to pull himself ontop of a storage shed before making the leap onto the courtyard's high wall. It appeared to take a bit of effort as he sat down on top of the wall for a minute, pulling out and eating a ration bar before dropping down on the far side. He came into view once more before disappearing behind another building and out of sight.

“ _ Hierarchy Military Command has yet to comment on this incident. As more information becomes available we will update our story. -- In other-” _

Rebas shut off the video and turned back towards the Primarch. “That’s all there is so far, sir.” Adrien considered the footage for a minute in silence before his aide got nervous and tried prompting him again. “Is there something you’d like me to do, Primarch Victus? Put out a statement or...”

He was cut off at the abrupt laughter coming from his boss. Adrien couldn’t help it. Watching his mate scale a wall over twice his height to escape from reporters was the most hilarious thing that he could think of in this moment. His nonchalance as he sat on top of it with a snack had his mandibles quivering and he had to cover his mouth with his hands.

The Primarch attempted to stop, but the visual came back and he burst out in another wave of laughter. 

“Uh… sir? Are you alright?”

“ _ Ahem… _ sorry Lieutenant. It’s just…  _ haha _ … not what I expected with that grave look you came to me with. Oh spirits, that’s good.” 

His aide seemed to relax a bit at the confession, allowing himself a small smile. Adrien calmed himself down, the stress of the morning gone with the laughter. He felt… better. Even without being present his mate had that effect on him. 

“Alright, I suppose a little more truth is required in explanation for that outburst.” The grey plated male crossed the room to sit behind his desk, gesturing towards the free chair on the opposing side. When Rebas took it, he got to business. “I’m sure you’ve realised that Advisor Vakarian and I are close?”

A tawny-brown plated crest dipped. “Yessir.”

“This is not public knowledge, but considering the news today? I’m certain it will be soon. Until that time you will speak of this to no one. He and I are bondmates.”

“Oh…” the brown crest tilted to the side in mild confusion. “Well that explains a lot… uh...  _ ahem…  _ no offence meant, sir.” 

“None taken.” The Primarch smiled, leaning back in his chair. “Not the worst reaction we’ve received.”

The lieutenant backpedaled immediately. “That’s not how I meant it. What I mean is you seemed out of sorts the past few weeks… ever since the final battle. Not necessarily worse since we got news of the  _ Normandy _ but… hmmm… maybe more anxious? This morning you were better. Like Nanus had begun waxing again in spring. If you don’t mind my saying, I’m happy for you, sir. You don’t need to worry about me, your hand saved me on Manae. I won’t forget it.”

“Thank you Rebas. You’ve become a strong ally to me since I left the  _ Normandy _ , it is noticed and appreciated.” A ping sounded on Adrien’s omnitool, work coming back to haunt him it seemed. He glanced down at it as his aide rose, seeing it was Garrus he dismissed him. “Until later then Lieutenant.”

“Sir,” the younger turian said by way of farewell as he closed the door on his way out. 

_ {Connection request accepted - Live chat open} _

_ A: I hear it’s been an interesting day. _

_ G: … _

_ G: You have? _

_ A: Mhm. Quite the daring escape you made, doctor approved I hope? _

_ G: Shit. I can explain. _

_ A: Later.  _

_ A: It was honestly rather amusing. At least I know you’re eating. _

_ G: Damnit.  _

_ G: Did you really see that? … How did you see that? _

_ A: News vid.  _

_ G: … okayyyy. _

_ A: Talk? _

_ {Video chat requested - Pending - Request Accepted} _

Garrus’ face appeared on his omnitool, the familiar blue lens covering his left eye. He appeared to be standing in the kitchen of Adrien’s temporary home, despite the fact he hadn’t given him a code for the door yet, nor the unit number. “Are you in my apartment?” he asked with a small laugh.

“ _ Yeah. Going to upgrade your security system while I wait for you. It’s terrible.” _

“I’ll let the Blackwatch Captain that installed it know you think so,” Adrien replied in a teasing tone. “How was the doctor?”

His mate looked away from the screen for a moment, turning back towards him before speaking. “ _ It was fine. Recovery’s on track. Few things to think about,”  _ his sub vocals were both thoughtful and hesitant. 

“Care to elaborate?” The undertones had him curious.

Garrus shook his head. _ “No. I need to think on things first.”  _ He gave a half smile, _ “Don’t worry so much?”  _ His eyes lightened a tad as he gave his full attention to Adrien for a moment before glancing beyond the camera again.   

“Mhm,” seeing the hesitance for what it was he left that matter alone. They’d discuss whatever it was later that night. “Word on when you can return to light duty?”

“ _ A week, _ ” he answered in an absent voice, focus elsewhere. 

“That’s excellent, love.” Adrien told him before switching the topic. “Anything specific you’d like for dinner? There’s a little caf é alo ng my route home...” When the sniper didn’t reply immediately he prompted, “Garrus?”

“ _ Mhm? Sorry. Long day. I’ve got dinner sorted, just let me know when you’re on the way. Have to time it, no stasis field installed.” _

“You’re going to cook?” the elder male asked, a bit surprised at the offer.

His mate hummed an affirmative note, mandibles tightening in mild embarrassment. “ _ Yeah… is that alright? If you’d rath-” _

“Of course it is,” Adrien cut him off with a warm, pleased hum. “I should be there in three hours, I’ll update you if that changes… and let you get back to whatever has you enthralled.”  

“ _ Sorry… just want to make sure this is calibrated properly.” _

He laughed, remembering the term had made his mate the object of many a joke when he stayed on the  _ Normandy _ . If he was anything like this when working on the Thanix Cannon, Adrien could now understand why. “I’ll see you soon.”

_ “Mhm,”  _ Garrus acknowledged, eyes coming back to the screen one final time as he pressed his talons to his crest. A romantic little gesture that Victus returned before logging out.

_ {Chat disconnected. User Victus offline.} _

+-+-+-+

A solid four and a half hours later, Adrien finally managed to step inside his apartment building’s lobby. Feeling better for the air on the short walk from the stand-in capitol building just two kilometers away. The dilapidated entryway had been swept today he noted as he waved in greeting to the building’s caretaker, a career soldier who turned to domestic work in his old age. 

The turian had, Victus later found out, served under him when he received his first command near thirty years ago. That connection turned out to be how he’d managed to acquire the small third-floor unit with such ease upon his return to Palaven. Something he was beyond grateful for as his family home had been flattened early in the war, and he’d had nowhere else to go.

Adrien pressed the key to open the stairwell door and made his way up the short few flights of stairs. 

Additional problems on the colony of Solregit had delayed him for well over an hour just as he was about to depart. The colony’s new Primarch, Louki Fidele, was his most vocal foe in the political arena. The male fighting him just as ferociously as he had in battle, when Adrien had been the Hierarchy officer tasked with taking out the Sundowner’s uprising after the assassination of Primarch Rosepterus in 2171.

Orders being what they were, and turians being who they were, meant that total destruction of the Sundowners had been on the table. The use of Hastatim squads and safe camps had been required to ensure they didn’t need to wipe out the entire colony, but losses had been immense. Victus doubted Fidele would ever forgive what had happened on Solregit, despite his more recent support of Hierarchy treaties.

Only time would tell.

Adrien shook off the day’s stresses as he approached the apartment door, Garrus didn’t deserve to be bogged down in politics yet. He promised himself in that moment he’d leave the Separatists out of the night’s discussions until his mate was cleared for light duties. He’d been alone nearing two months, he could wait a week longer to share this part of his burden. 

He opened the door with a swipe of his omnitool against the panel using the codes Garrus had sent him a few hours earlier via encoded message. It slid to reveal the spartan furnishings of his small apartment, which was surprisingly empty. 

“I’m home” he called out in a low voice, stepping in and allowing the door to close behind himself. He scanned the space; the galley kitchen on his left had something that smelled wonderful sitting on the induction cooktop keeping warm, the island that separated the kitchen from the small living space was clean and had two places set out in front of two newly acquired, mismatched stools.

Walking further into his space he dropped his bag onto the worn couch that sat alone in the living room and headed for the only other room. He approached the closed door with a hint of caution in his steps, paranoia at its finest as he stood to the side of the door when he pressed the panel. One hand resting over the pistol on his hip, hidden by the folds of his jacket. 

He hoped his caution wasn’t necessary.

“Garrus?” he chanced a look around the doorframe, eyes scanning the bare walled room. His mate was facedown on the desk, using his arms as a pillow to support his fringe. He took a steadying breath and stepped inside, only now hearing music coming from Garrus’ direction which he deduced was leaking out from his visor in the absolute silence of the room.

A datapad was clasped loose in his talons, and Adrien couldn’t stop the small smile that spread across his mandibles as he realised nothing untoward had happened. A few more steps had him at his mate’s side, crouched down to be level with him. One of his hands drew a gentle line along the curve of his fringe while the other fell on top of the sniper’s in case he was startled. 

“Mhnn…” came the tiny noise of annoyance from the back of his mate’s throat as he began to stir. Adrien stifled a laugh and hummed back at him, his tone soothing yet insistent. “Five more minutes...“ Garrus mumbled in his sleep addled haze.

At that the elder male couldn't help it, he chuckled out loud which was enough to bring his lighter plated companion to wakefulness. His muzzy look furthered the Primarch’s bright laughter, blue eyes squinting in the dim light. 

“Sorry… been a long time since I’ve heard that complaint.” He pushed in, nuzzling his crest against Garrus’ temple. “Missed you today.”

“Glad you’re home,” the younger male yawned as he sat back, removing his visor to scrub the sleep from his face. “What time is it? I hadn’t meant to fall asleep.”

“I’m admittedly late…” Adrien said by way of response while he stood and Garrus checked his tool, mandible flicking in mild disappointment. 

He stood, a hand gripping his mate’s shoulder as he passed him on the way to the door. “Dinner might be overdone, but I can probably salvage it.” He breezed out of the room and into the kitchen, leaving Adrien standing alone at the desk. 

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” he called out after him as he kicked off his boots and pulled off his dress clothes before tossing them to the space on the floor he’d been using as a hamper. He was halfway through taking off his pants when he realised that the rest of his wardrobe was missing. “That’s odd…” he hummed to himself. “Could have sworn I’d left a mess….”

Adrien walked to the closet and found that his, admittedly small, wardrobe was clean, dry, and hung up in perfect rows. He blinked in surprise a few times before pulling out a fresh pair of sleeping pants and putting them on. When he reached the kitchen Garrus was busy ladling stew into bowls.

“It’s nothing fancy, but at least it's fresh.” His mate said as he placed the bowls down along with a plate of  _ silgur _ rolls that he removed from the heating unit. Adrien’s head tilted to the side in utter confusion, his mandibles slack against his jaw as he watched him flit about the small space, fetching glasses of water and turning off the heaters. When he finished he looked up, “Adrien? You alright?”

The hint of concern in the younger male’s second voice pulled him back from his daze. “When did you do all this?” he asked, tone disbelieving. 

“This afternoon? I’ve uh… been here a couple hours.”

Adrien didn’t think, he just closed the distance between them and grabbed hold of his mate. Pressing his mouth to the younger male’s, tongue asking for entrance to steal a long dose of reverie while his arms wound around his back and one hand pulled him in by the back of his neck. Garrus submitted to him, allowing the rough treatment for the moment and kissing him back just as hard. Hands slid along his unplated and bare waist to draw out a long moan.

He was breathless by the time he pulled back. One knuckle traced the line of his mate’s cheek ridge as he regained himself. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Garrus asked him, a buzz of confusion underlining his words. 

The Primarch gestured around himself, now noticing how the entire apartment was neat and clean. The dishes done, surfaces dusted. “This. All of this. The cleaning, the food, my clothes, just… being here. Thank you.”

His neck flushed blue at the honesty in Adrien’s voice, the sub harmonic undertones that he filled with adoration. “It’s what you’re supposed to do? Isn’t it?”

Adrien smiled, bringing his crest to Garrus’. “You don’t have to do anything for me, love.”

The light grey crest nuzzled against his darker one. “I wanted to… it’s...  _ nice  _ to take care of you for a change.” He pulled back, glacial eyes finding his golden ones as he brought a hand up to run his talons along the length of Adrien’s mandible. “You know I’d do anything for you?”

The Primarch’s head tilted to the side as he pressed into his partner’s talons. Resting his weight against them. “And I you…” he sighed, eyes closing as he relaxed and the day’s stresses vanished.

This is what  _ home  _ felt like, and Adrien couldn’t be happier. 

+-+-+-+-+

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love hearing your opinions, don't be afraid to comment. I won't bite... unless that's what you're into. 
> 
> VV.


	22. What If?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrus is a mess, good thing Adrien is home to clean him up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had some fun with this one and then it got really emotional, so I'm sorry? Kind of... 
> 
> Warning for a little bdsm play in this chapter. 
> 
> Reminder we love these two to the ends of the earth of their beta skills:  
> [ **Kuraiummei**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuraiummei/pseuds/Kuraiummei) and [**Spicy_Gnome**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Spicy_Gnome/pseuds/Spicy_Gnome)

“I remember you saying you worked on a Mako, Garrus… but you’re sure you know what you’re doing?” Seekim’s voice sounded close by, and when he glanced towards his feet he could see the other male had knelt down to be level with him. The sniper was currently laying halfway underneath a malfunctioning excavator unit. The mechanic hadn’t been able to figure out what was wrong with the wiring the day prior and had mentioned it to him as a topic of conversation at dinner. Garrus had offered to assist… and here they were.

The sniper’s voice sounded tinny as he replied. “I’m sure. Just about… there!” he slid out from under the massive construction vehicle, covered in mud and grease. “Try it now!” he called out to the driver.

The excavator’s operator acknowledged him and started the beast up. It sputtered for a few seconds before the engine turned over and purred for them. A loud round of cheers went up around the dig site from the other workers as they cleared out of the machine’s way. 

“Good as new,” Garrus smiled, rolling out his bad shoulder while the brown-plated turian led them to the rest area. “I noticed you’d cleared a fair amount of debris from the wiring harness, looked like one wire was stripped to ground. Shorting the whole system.”

Seekim’s head tilted to the side, considering it. “How do ya figure that?” he asked, his relaxed accent coming out in full force now that they were talking shop.

“Seen it before, my old Commander? Not much of a driver...” he laughed, thinking back to the early days… the ones before life had gotten so complicated. “Don’t let anyone know I said that.”

The mechanic chuckled, shaking his head. “Wouldn’t dare. So uh… ya got some time or ya need ta be on the way? Advisorly duties and whatnot.”

“No  _ advising _ for me today.”

“Why not?” Seekim asked with honest curiosity layered in his sub vocals. He passed a water bottle to him, taking one for himself as well and taking a long sip. “Don’t need ta answer if you’re not inclined.”

“Mhm…” Garrus considered a moment longer before answering, he appreciated the forthcomingness of the mechanically inclined turian. “Not cleared yet.”

“Well shit… really? I’m gonna get myself in trouble with your mate if I’m not more careful.”

The sniper shook his head, smile sheepish as he clipped his shoulder against the shorter male’s. “You’re fine. I however? Will be if he finds out.” He glanced down at his omnitool, checking the time. “I’ve got a couple hours before he’ll be home... don’t suppose you’ve got anything else that needs a pair of hands? I’m itching for something productive to do.”

“Do I ever!” Seekim replied, sub vocals grateful for the offer to assist. He waved Garrus along behind him as he began walking again, “Come on, let’s get you some better gear and we’ll get started with the crane.” 

Garrus’ grin grew a little wider, this was exactly what he needed after his second appointment with Voss. Some time away from his own thoughts; time keeping his hands and mind busy with something that required his full attention. Chores around the  _ maldis _ had taken up the better part of the last three days when he wasn’t at the gym or spending time with his mate, but cleaning and cooking didn’t occupy his mind enough for it to qualify as downtime.

Everyone else had gone back to work: Solana to Cipritine Engineering, Castis to Hierarchy Security, the Melandra clan to medical work and the Venez clan to hard labour. Both his sister and father had refused him anything meaningful to do, citing his doctor’s orders. The Melandras had done the same. Hell, even Adrien was reluctant to let him read reports. Seekim and Tess however… had been more than willing to let him tag along.

“So this one....” his tawny-brown companion began as they approached the crane, tools in hand. “Stopped working two days ago, I was waitin’ on a new timing belt but haven’t had time to install it. Think ya can manage?”

Garrus’ mandibles flared out as he considered. “It’s a standard make, should be fine.” He paused, looking over at the shorter male. “And… thanks. I appreciate you letting me help out.”

Seekim shook his head, huffing an amused breath out his nose before speaking. “Comes to work for free AND thanks me!” He turned away, half laughing. “Spirits be praised for whoever brought him and may they send more.”

“Laugh it up!” Garrus called out after him as he sauntered off. The other male ignored him, and instead of wasting time, he got to work on the timing belt. Elbows deep in grease within a few minutes, mind blank but for the task set out before him.

+-+-+-+- 

Garrus only needed for Solana to glance at him once when he stepped into the  _ Caman _ before she glowered at him. Her mandibles were drawn tight against her face as she rumbled in displeasure. “Seriously, G? You too?”

“What?” He shot back with a cheeky grin, good arm shrugging in nonchalance. “I said I was helping out a friend for the afternoon…”

“You neglected to mention that  _ friend _ was the mechanic!” she glared daggers at him and the dusty footprints he’d left in his wake. Even though he’d left his boots at the door the grime had followed him. He knew his face was smeared with grease along his scarred side, the dirt covering what little remained of his markings. While excellent for hiding his identity, it did have the unintended side effect of disgusting his sister. His clothing was filthy as well, dried mud caked under his talons and along his back. “Bathhouse, now!”

“Just let me…” he began, stepping further into the cooking area eying the fresh baked treats who’s smell had made him salivate enough to make the short detour.

“No!” She stopped his advance with a shout, her arms blocking him from getting any closer to the meat filled pastries on the island counter. “I’ll get you one, just quit spreading dirt around.”

A voice from the doorway caught both sibling’s attention. Solana crept up on her toes to look over Garrus’ shoulder. “One what?” Adrien asked, sounding amused through an exhausted sounding yawn.

The sniper flinched, head ducking a little below his shoulders at his mate’s voice. He half turned to look at the elder male, who was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his keel. A delighted lilt to his mandibles as he took in the scene in front of him. His eyes were smiling too, but they looked sunken in, as though he hadn’t had much sleep the night prior while he had stayed in his apartment alone to catch up on reports.

“Adrien… you’re early…” 

His Primarch hummed in agreement, sub vocal tones betraying his amusement. “I am. Castis was kind enough to have the skycar waiting when I finished. Is that a problem?” 

Garrus heard his sister laugh behind him as he crossed to his mate, and he spoke in a low voice, only loud enough for him to hear, as he pressed his crest into the darker grey one in greeting. “Never. Just unexpected.”

“Good…” Adrien hummed back before pulling away and wiping a thumb through the grease under his visor. “Do I want to know?”

“Probably not,” Solana chuffed as she came up beside them. Two pastries on a napkin in her hand which she passed to the cleaner male. “Go. I’ll save enough dinner for both of you if you’re not back in time.”

Garrus trilled a grateful thanks and moved to take one of the morsels from Adrien, who shifted them out of his reach as he began leading the way towards the clan side of the  _ maldis _ . “Oh no you don’t,” he chided, longer legs giving him an edge, especially when he stopped walking backwards and turned away from him with the foodstuffs.

He took a moment to glare at his sister, who just gave him an amused smirk and turned back to her dinner prep, before he trotted after Adrien. Considering the taller male wasn’t running, he sure had managed to get a fair distance ahead of him. 

His feet made little sound on the warm floors as he picked up his own pace, purposefully soft footfalls pattered along until he got within arm’s reach of his partner.

“Adrien come on…” Garrus complained as he caught up to him, missing the mark when he sprung forwards to try and grab for the still warm treats. “Please… I’m hungry,” he admitted when his stomach betrayed him and grumbled. 

His mate stopped just inside the archway to the clan wing, turning back towards him with a sly grin spreading across his mandibles. The older male placed the food down on the hall table and as Garrus went for it, he caught him against the wall. His mud caked back hit the stone wall with a dull thud and a puff of dust, while Adrien’s grease covered talons curled around the back of his neck before his fringe could do the same. Protecting him as always, despite the aggressive treatment.

“Your hands are filthy, love…” he purred into his ear with mild reproach before pressing his mouth plates against Garrus’ own. And the younger male allowed the long drag of reverie sharing for a half minute until the elder pulled away from his mouth to nip along his clean mandible. “Rather than you eat dirt, let me?” 

Garrus nodded against him unsure of what he meant, but still accepting everything he had to offer, including tilting his head to the side to allow Adrien space to continue down his pale brown throat. He pressed into his mate’s touch as talons scraped gentle trails over the back of his neck. 

With his free hand, the dark-grey turian reached over to the pastries and broke off a bite sized section before bringing it to the sniper’s maw. Garrus caught on fast enough, happy to open his mouth to accept the morsel, his tongue trailing over his mate’s talons to ensure he didn’t leave a crumb behind. His moan was met with one of Adrien’s own, and the eroticism of the moment surprised Garrus. 

The Primarch continued working on the clean spots along his mandible and throat while he fed the second and third pieces to him. On the last, he allowed Garrus to lave his fingers a moment before he pulled back from his neck to watch him, eyes glossed over with lust.

“There’s a whole other pastry, love...” he rumbled low in his throat as a wry grin spread across his mandibles. “Think you’re in the mood to earn it?” he asked, sliding his talons along the length of his mate’s tongue as he pulled them free of his mouth, a trail of saliva linking them until gravity won out.

“Yessir,” he answered quickly, the undertones of his voice betraying not only his obedience, but the eagerness to comply as well. And although Adrien continued to smile at him, he couldn’t help but feel something was off as the elder male released him while picking up the remaining treat and began to walk down the hallway. “Adrien, something wrong?”

His mate hummed a negative note, although his head rolled in an uncertain bob. “Not really, no.”

Garrus caught his shoulder, dissatisfied with the answer and leaving three distinct lines of grime on his mate’s light grey tunic. “Was it something I said?” he asked pulling them to a stop.

“It’s…” he began before letting out a strangled sigh and turning back towards him. “You know you don’t need to call me sir, anymore. Or Primarch.”

“But you like it…” the younger male pressed.

“Yes.”

“Then sometimes? I will, if you want me to.”

Adrien’s crest tilted to the side, making his confusion obvious. “Really?”

He shrugged, a grin starting to spread across his mandibles as he crept in closer to his mate. Hands trailing along the ridge of his hips, he hummed a bass low rumble strong enough that he knew Adrien would feel it right down to his bones. His mouth pressed against the side of his partner’s head, and into his ear he whispered, “I could call you  _ Master _ , if you prefer  _ sir. _ ”

The immediate snap of tension that ran through Adrien was worth the presumption.

Garrus found himself pressed back against the wall in a matter of seconds, he went willingly. Accepting his mate’s roughness with a pleased hum as their mouths came together again, Adrien continuing to be greedy as he forced his tongue deep inside his mouth, running it along the glands that produced the hormone cocktail. Stimulating them into making more.

His voice was gruff when he pulled away, nipping at the peaks of his maw. “ _ Master _ ,” he said, drawing the word out like he was testing it. “Not today, but I’ll keep that in mind...  _ pet. _ ” 

The sniper couldn’t stop the shiver of anticipation that ran through him at the appreciative, rumbled reply. He may have dabbled with calling Adrien by his title, but the thought of him reciprocating with a name of his own admittedly made him a little warm to the touch. The adoration that dripped from the word as sweet as fine turian chocolate. 

It wasn’t the word persay that did it, it was more the possessive undertone he used, something a bit untamed in his mate’s nature that came to the forefront. Had anyone else used that word it would’ve turned him off. Adrien however, only riled him up.

“Unless you’d like that?” the golden eyed turian asked him, his voice a deep whisper in his ear.

Garrus swallowed thickly, heart beating faster in his chest. “I uh… yeah. I think I would actually.”

The Primarch’s hand slid down the length of his chest, dropping lower to cup and rub against his rapidly widening sheath. “What was that?” The husky tone went straight to his core and his pupils dilated in sheer want.

“I would love that Master.”

Without warning his mate pulled back, leaving him sagging against the wall. “Bathhouse. Now.” He demanded, one hand gesturing for him to lead the way. The sniper nodded and hurried along the hallway, leading Adrien through the newest section of the  _ maldis _ and into the gardens out back. Feet no longer quiet as his talons clacked against the stone, uncaring for the noise he made.

Less than two minutes later they’d reached the small sanctuary in the gardens and Garrus keyed in the password to unlock the door. He led the way inside, stopping long enough to put his security program in place before turning to find his mate watching him with hooded eyes.

“Strip,” he demanded without prelude. 

Garrus pulled off his clothing in quick succession. Not drawing it out as he’d done in the past, far too keyed up to wait. When he was nude before his partner he waited for the next request. Chest already heaving in anticipation, plates starting to shift.

The small indoor bathhouse was as beautiful as he remembered it to be. Cool marble floors under his bare feet, the walls patterned with tile as well in earthy silvers and gentle blues. A singular spa-like bath sat in the centre of the room, extending outwards into a fenced inner courtyard for lounging. It could easily fit twelve adults, but was instead a generous space for two. 

“Mnnn…” Adrien rumbled, circling him once as he fought to stay patiently still.

Light glinted off of the many shower heads that lined the leftmost wall. A variety of soaps sat on the indented shelving. Benches lined either side of the pool, one side more practical for grooming and the other less so, built to lounge.

“Visor too,” Adrien reminded him as he leisurely removed his tunic and walked to the lounging bench to sit back, relaxing into the comfortable seating with a short sigh, his body sinking into the plush cushions. The weight of the last two days had been great it seemed, as the other male’s eyes shut for a moment and Adrien recollected himself. 

Garrus watched him for a moment, taking in his haggard appearance. The dullness of his plates, the slump of his shoulders. His immediate thought was that he should stop teasing and just go to him. Ease his stress through simple touches, ask him to share the burden his command forced onto his shoulders alone. 

The sniper wanted to go to him, needed to… but he only got one step closer before he realised that wasn’t what Adrien needed right now. His mate needed to decompress, and he did that best through the roleplay. So instead he complied, placing his tech down on the countertop. His mate hummed in approval, the game restarted.

“Clean yourself up,  _ pet _ .” The Primarch suggested, gesturing vaguely at the showers. “Give me a show.”

A twitch of heat pulled at his cock at the new title, but he did nothing to soothe the temptation just yet. Instead, he merely crossed the room and turned on the water, letting the rainfall come down over his crest as he tilted his face into the stream. Steaming hot rivulets of water cascaded down his plates, running lines through the caked on dirt and grime. 

He took a scrubbing pad to some of the dirtier spots, moaning softly as he edged over his sensitive waist and along the length of his throat from bondmark to mandible. The aquamarine scrub felt wonderful against his plates, the pleasant peppery scent assaulting his nose began to overpower the grease as he cleaned his face.

“Look at me,” Adrien urged when he was nearly finished. Garrus opened his eyes to see the intensity in his mate’s gaze, despite the heat of the water he shivered. With a single finger he was beckoned forwards. The younger male only stopped long enough to shut off the water before complying. “On your knees,” his love told him, pulling a towel out from under the bench and tossing it down at his feet to cushion them.

“Yes, sir.” He obeyed, kneeling before Adrien, plates just about ready to burst open as the elder male ran a feather light touch along his jaw.

“Think you can manage to take me here,  _ pet _ ?” he asked in a cool voice, sub vocals held tight as to not coerce him. 

Garrus nodded in a precise motion. “Anything for you, Master _. _ ” He drew out the final word, letting his hum vibrate between them, causing his mate’s pupils to dilate in anticipation. He’d do anything to ease his partner’s tension, the fact he was literally dripping preparatory fluid from his sheath because of the wordplay was simply a bonus. The sniper couldn’t stop the warm purr as he knelt down, stealing a taste of Reverie on his way. 

To begin, pale grey hands grasped clothed hips and ran along the entirety of his mate’s legs, caressing the outsides of his thighs before ghosting over his knees and spurs to land on his ankles before he curved them inwards along the more sensitive plating along the inside of his calves, mouth following up behind talon tips, nipping at usually untouched hide beneath it.

He worshipped the hide of his mate’s bare ankle with teeth and tongue for a few moments before he continued upwards over his pants. The cloth becoming slightly damp as he took his time mouthing along the inseam as water dripped from his plates.

By the time he’d made his way back up to Adrien’s knees, the darker male was panting. Garrus chanced a glance upwards as he bit into unplated inner thigh, just slightly harder than he had his calf, and watched the jerk of his partner’s hips and how his head dropped back, fringe resting against the lounge’s headrest.

“Don’t stop…” the deep voice of his mate breathed into the tiled room, crying out to the Spirits as he did so with his sub harmonic tones.

Garrus was powerless to do anything but comply with the order. He wanted nothing more than to pleasure his partner. Ease his stress. Give him release.

He mouthed over the growing bulge in the Primarch’s pants, the elder male already having fallen from his dripping seam. Heavy with blood and need. Hands trailed lightly over it for a moment before he gave into his own desire to see his partner’s hardness and he unclasped straining pants.

A strangled gasp preceded his mates length, and Adrien’s hands found their way to his fringe. Urging the younger male on by bucking into his grasp and pulling his mouth closer. A long prehensile tongue snuck out of Garrus’ mouth and he laved over his partner’s member. One long, hard lick from base to tip along his rigid and sensitive underside.

He continued on for a few more minutes, drawing gasps from his partner as he trailed the muscle over every inch of him. Careful as he pressed into the edges of his sheath with the tip of it and forced a deep vibration out to rattle him. 

“Fuck Garrus! Nghh...” Adrien moaned aloud into the bathhouse, the noises echoing off tiled floor and walls without anything to dampen the natural frequency of his hummed pleasure. The acoustics perfect for his deep baritone voice. His talons dug into Garrus’ shoulder, but that didn’t phase him as he drew out another long line before very carefully taking the tip of his partner’s phallus into his mouth. “Oh… spirits…”

Adrien melted into his partner’s ministrations. Giving himself over completely to his mate. Hips rising and falling within Garrus’ grasp as the younger male began working his mouth further down his length. Inch by painful, slow inch until his nasal plates were pressed against his partner’s damp slit. 

He fought against the urge to gag, Adrien sinking past the roughness of his mouth to caress the velvet back of his throat. The darker grey male didn’t hold him there, but his words and ruined undertones made it clear he was enjoying Garrus’ attentions. And as he pulled back, the elder male whined for the loss. The ex-C-Sec officer wouldn’t leave him in the open air long, he pressed in again, letting his second voice roll out in a pleased hum that made Adrien buck against him forcing himself deeper into the sniper’s mouth.

This time he did gag, it having been much too long since he’d practiced. Black talons went to his partner’s hips as he pulled back an inch or so, the pressure reducing on his throat allowing him to swallow down the excess saliva that had begun to gather on the damp floor of his mouth. 

The swallow had an unintended side effect, his partner grasped onto him hard, hands under his fringe guiding him back down. “Fuuuuccckkk…” he dragged out the word, voice tight and straining with effort. “Again.”

Garrus breathed through his nose as best he could, swallowing the grey-blue member down once more, the closest action he had to sucking, considering he was without malleable lips. His hands grasped at sensitive, plateless hide and and pressed talon tips into dark grey hips to steady his partner. His vision started to grow fuzzy at the edges and he pulled off for a greedy half gasp of air before Adrien forced him back.

“Donnn… mnnhhh… don’t stop pet. Take me in…” 

The sniper compiled, having never heard such a needy, commanding tone from his mate. That voice made him spring out of his own plates. Heavy and hot, with a guttural moan that carried straight through to Adrien and the elder male started to move his hips in time with how he pulled him in. The earlier rolling motion growing into a thrust that made Garrus choke. Blue eyes squeezed shut as he tried to will the nauseating feeling away. His hands slid back down Adrien’s waist to grab at his hips instead, trying to slow his mate down.

The younger male groaned in complaint, his jaw aching from keeping it open wide enough to not nick Adrien with his teeth. But the elder was too far gone to notice the complaint for what it was. Too focused on chasing the end.

“Ss...Spirits....” his head fell back against the rest and his body gave a full fledged shudder as he came apart into Garrus’ mouth. He bucked again, causing the younger male to heave and gag, before filling the tawny-brown throat and velvet mouth as he released. Garrus could do nothing but try to drink the unexpected fluid down, coughing and sputtering around his partner’s length.

The older male held him firm as he thrust in a few more times, dragging the last dregs of the orgasm out despite Garrus’ attempt to pull free.

When Adrien was spent, he slumped back in the lounge again and released the sniper’s head. He moved away quick enough to lose his balance, crumbling down on his elbows on the marble floors. Hacking a nasty cough and spitting out some of the residual fluid. Garrus took a few real breaths and wiped the remnants of his partner’s cum from his face with the back of his hand. His chest heaved with the effort as he regained his breath.

The moment Adrien came back to himself he was kneeling on the ground in front of his mate, hands splayed in front of him seemingly unsure if he should try to touch his love. “Spirits Garrus... I’m sorry. I… I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. Are… are you alright?” 

The sniper coughed once more to clear his throat, sounding ruined and half strangled. “I’m fine Adrien. Really.” He hummed an admittedly jagged, yet soothing, note while he pushed himself up and reached out to run his hands along his partner’s shoulders. He felt him tremble in his arms, and this time it wasn’t the good kind of tremble. “Hey… look at me, please.” One pale grey hand cupped a white-painted cheek, requesting his attention so that blue-eyes could envelope gold. 

“Garrus…”

“Hush. I’m fine.”

“No!” the elder half yelled, his voice firm enough on the word to capture the younger turian’s attention. Adrien didn’t yell, at least not at him. “I hurt you.”

“You di-”

He cut him off with a shake of his head, his breaths harsh as he berated himself. “Doesn’t matter if I didn’t mean to, I did. I wasn’t listening to you.”

“I could have made you stop…” Garrus told him, grasping for anything that would make his mate stop. The timbre of his own voice waving almost as much as Adrien’s.

“That’s not the point!” His hand slid along the curve of his jaw. Voice quieting as he continued, “We won’t do this again, you should never have to make me stop.”

Blue eyes slid closed as he pressed into his mate’s palm. “What if I want to?” he whispered back. His hand took his mate’s and slid it down his abdomen, allowing him to feel how hard he still was, despite the argument. “We can do better, figure it out.”

“You… you’re...?” Although the dark grey hand grasped his partner’s hardness, the Primarch didn’t move it just yet.

“I trust you Adrien, you won’t hurt me unless I let you.” 

“Promise me.”

“I promise.” Garrus’ hand clasped over his mate’s and he used it to stroke himself, guide him along until he took over on his own. The ex-detective sighed into his mates’ shoulder, arms wrapping around his waist as he nodded. “Mhmm… just like that.” 

His hips began to roll into the hand on him as he moaned until he reached completion. Slumping against the taller male, breathing just as hard as he was.

Adrien let him relax for a moment before he pulled back, clean hand dragging along his jaw to make their eyes meet again. Storm swallowing ice. “You are everything to me, Garrus. Know that whatever roles we’re playing with that you are always in control, never let me hurt you. I can’t handle breaking your trust like this.”

“You made a mistake, Adrien.” He brought his mouth forwards and nipped at his mate’s mouth plates until he was allowed entrance to twist their tongues together and soothe him. “I still trust you, I always will.”

He watched the white-marked crest nod before it pressed to his own for a moment. The tension falling away, mistake forgiven. The elder male stood, offering a hand to him to help him to his feet. Once they were both standing, Garrus watched him pad to the counter where Adrien had left the second pastry and he brought it back to him. A meek smile on his mandibles as he offered it.

“Want half?” the blue-marked turian asked, biting it two and passing the other side back. Adrien took it with a small sigh of a laugh, eating it in smaller bites than Garrus had as he took his mate’s hand and led him to the hot pool. “You’re overdressed, Adrien.”

“So I am…” he replied, hands working to unclasp his undershirt. Garrus pushed them away, taking over the simple task of undressing him. His pale grey hands unfastening the top the rest of the way and pushing it down his mate’s arms. Adrien kicked off his boots and let the younger male pull his pants down his slim hips and over muscled thighs. 

+-+-+-+

Naked together, they stepped into the pleasantly warm water. Garrus moved to the controls and increased the temperature a few degrees, making it hot enough to soothe the aches away, while Adrien found a comfortable place to sit back. The incline allowing his keel and shoulders to be submerged while leaving his head well above the, now swirling, water.

He pulled the paler grey male’s back against his chest when he came back over, angling him so that his fringe protruded back over his left shoulder. His arms wrapped around his mate, hands smoothing across the still-stark lines of his plates. The younger male was looking much better for the additional time at home, yet the remnants of his near-starvation held on.

“I’m not going to float away,” Garrus told him after a few minutes of silence.

Adrien started at the mild comment, and lessened the grip he hadn’t realised he’d been tightening. “Sorry,” he mumbled the apology into his mate’s shoulder. Instead of allowing his talons to tighten again, he let them wander. Begin to massage the aches and sore spots he could feel under the plates beneath his hands until Garrus began to vocalise for an entirely new, and welcomed, reason. “Better?”

“Mhhnnn… much…” he sighed and leaned into his touch. Another five minutes or so went by before he pulled away, turning in the water to kneel in front of him on the bench. “Not that I want you to stop, but did you want to talk about what’s got you so pent up?”

The Primarch’s mandibles pulled into his face as he looked away, one hand coming out of the water to press against his temple before clawing a damp line down his fringe. “You’re not back to work for another two days,” he reminded his younger partner in an attempt to leave work out of their private time. “It can wait.”

“You’re off tomorrow, for the first time in what? Months?” Adrien nodded in agreement. “Then let me help with the burden so that tomorrow you’re free of it. I’m joining you the day after regardless.”

He considered for a moment with a long sigh, turning back to lock his gaze with the intense blue one that waited for him. “If you’ll tell me about the doctor first, then I’ll tell you what’s got my gizzard knotted. Deal?”

Garrus’ eyes rolled in that distinctly human way that Adrien had come to love. It meant he’d won. To soothe the blow he pulled Garrus back against him as he turned him around, this time when he was seated he reached over to the basket of cleaning tools and grabbed a scrubbing pad to polish his cowl with. “Where should I start?”

“Mephran?”

“Mhm… he at least is pleased with my progress. All is better than the standards he wanted me to hit. Nothing to really report on that front, keeping doing what I’m doing.  _ Voss  _ on the other talon-” he scoffed, “-just as abrasive as last time.”

“How so?”

“I thought I was used to Miranda’s perfection complex, but she’s got nothing on Voss. She’s constantly edging on too... _ friendly _ while throwing insult after insult. At least this time Tiran was there to help.”

“Not that I’m begrudging you backup, but what did he need to be there for?”

Garrus hummed and leaned into his hand, encouraging him to continue scrubbing when he stopped. Once Adrien resumed, he continued. “Apparently he’s a neurologist specializing in biotic implantation in turians.Turns out?” He tapped the plate covering his cybernetic port, “This was modelled after a human biotic implant.”

“Huh. Odd… but I’ll bite. Why does that make a difference?”

“I won’t bore you with all the details, I don’t quite understand them all myself  _ yet _ . But the issue is our nerves interconnect with the brain differently than human ones do. The uh...  _ Reaper...  _ tech Miranda initially used made it not matter so much, but between the muscle loss and nerve cell death while the  _ Normandy _ was stranded… it’s a bit fucked.” 

His right arm came out of the water and Adrien watched it closely. Seeing the tremor in his hand now that he was watching for it. “Range of motion isn't great either.” He clenched his fist and released it, the hand couldn’t quite tighten, nor could it open fully. “Been painful.”

Adrien’s hand slid along his mate’s outstretched arm, intertwining his hand with Garrus’ to pull it back into his chest and support it there. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He whispered into his shoulder, mouthing the hide just behind the port.

Garrus shrugged, single armed. “Didn’t quite realise how much it hurt in the beginning honestly. The…  _ ahhh…  _ burns kinda dulled it out. Been worse since I woke up, and now that everything else is healing? It’s coming to the forefront.” He sighed, long and drawn out as he pressed back into Adrien and pulled his arm tight against his chest. “I may not like her, but she’s got a plan to fix my arm. Tiran thinks it’s going to work and he’ll assist if I want them to operate.”

“If?”

“It’s unnecessary. I’m alive, my arm mostly works. They should be focusing on those who actually  _ need  _ surgery. I can live with it.”

The Primarch’s arms wrapped around his lover, his face burying into his neck. When he spoke his words were mumbled and low. “What if… what if I want you to get it done? What if I don’t want to watch you be in pain anymore?” He could feel Garrus tightening underneath him, but he refused to let go. Continuing on with his plea. “What if I want you at your best?”

A small huff of a laugh shook his shoulders. “What if this is all I have left?” he asked through a pained sub vocal hum.

“I don’t believe it is, love.” Adrien took a moment to find the right words, pouring comfort into his harmonics as he continued. “But... if you’re done? I understand.”

“I’m… I’m not done. Not yet. I’ll… I can do it,” Garrus choked out, hands gripping Adrien’s arms in front of him. An uncertain hum sounded from his tawny-brown throat, halting words following closely behind it. As he spoke the words tumbled together, growing faster as he continued on. “They… they said they can fix my scars too. I’ll never be as... good? As I was before the rocket, but… I could be better... look better... for you.”

“Garrus…” the darker male replied aghast. He hadn’t expected the conversation to turn so swiftly. “I don’t care how you look.”

The laugh was darker this time, humorless in its timbre. “Don’t lie to me, Adrien. Not only do I see the way you look at them, but I remember you saying you can look past them. That I  _ was _ handsome. I know that they disgust you. I’ve felt your hands on them when you think I’m asleep.” His mate didn’t move out of his grasp, despite the elder male releasing him. He couldn’t speak and so Garrus continued on. “It’s… I… I get it.”

“Stop, please...” his voice broke over the words and he moved in the water to kneel in front of his lover on the submerged bench. “Let me explain. Let me try.”

A pale grey crest dipped in another nod, and Adrien caught his face in his hands. A gentle pressure requested that he look at him, and so he did. 

“It isn’t disgust or pity, Garrus. It’s remorse. Guilt for everything you’ve been through, some of it at my hands. And those that weren’t? They’re reminders of the times I wasn’t there. All that you’ve lived through, alone. All that you’ve survived. I love every part of you. With or without the scars.”

He slid forwards, his crest a bare few centimeters from Garrus’ own, as his thumbs caressed his partner’s face. Waiting with a sniper’s patience to see if he would reciprocate and meet him in the middle. It took only a few moments before his love relaxed into him.

Pulling Garrus to his chest, he thrummed a low pulsing sound. Pushing as much adoration and support as he could into his second voice. The Primarch wanted his mate to be whole again, he hated the feeling of helplessness that came along with Garrus’ grief. Hated how frail the younger turian felt in his arms. He missed the hulking form that had shared his bed on the  _ Normandy _ , the turian that had easily thrown him to the mats and pinned him. 

His eyes fell shut, and he intoned a soothing, warm note with his next admission. “Every word is true, love. I know you don’t always believe me, but I wish you would. I am as attracted to you as I was a year ago when I met you in Fedorian’s conference room.”

Garrus pulled back to regard him, his hands moving forwards instead to maintain contact and clasp dark grey hips. “That long?”

“Mhm. From the moment you walked into that room, I remember the brand new heavy armor on your shoulders, how you carried yourself in front of not only the room of Generals, but Primarch Fedorian himself. How you single handedly convinced us all, not only of the existence of Reapers, but that you were our best chance at stopping them. I was too busy focusing on your words to see your scars, and later when I did? They didn’t deter me and they never will.”

“What if… I wanted some of them gone?”

“Show me,” he asked, sliding his talons along his mandible to settle on the back of his neck for a moment until Garrus needed him to let go.

The sniper nodded, and pulled back to sit on a higher ledge so just his hips and legs remained in the water. “This one,” he brushed talons across the surgical incision on his lower back, from his kidney replacement on the Citadel. “And the line of these from my cybernetics…” his good hand drifted up the length of his bad arm, pointing out the multiple lacerations. “The artificial plates here,” talons tapped each of the prosthetic ones covering his bad side from Omega’s burns. 

“Anything else, love?”

He swallowed and nodded once, his nerves coming out again as he took Adrien’s hand in his own. “This one too.” The Primarch held his breath as Garrus’ hands led his talons up to his cheek to trace over the split below his visor’s eye. “This one most of all.”

“Can I ask why?”

“However much I cared for him, for...  _ Wrex _ , he broke us apart the day he did this. I don’t want to be reminded anymore. You shouldn’t have to be either.”

Adrien released the breath he’d been holding. “I understand. And if this is what you want? Then it’s what you should do.”

“There’s one more…”

The Primarch met his gaze and subsequently followed it down to his mate’s thigh when he lifted it out of the water. His eyes locking onto the singular scar there, the one he’d remember forever whether it was on his mate’s plates or not. The stab wound Garrus had taken on Tuchanka in the battle where Tarquin had been lost.

“Do you want this reminder gone as well?” Garrus asked innocently enough, his hand trailing along the near forty year old bondmark on Adrien’s opposing shoulder. “You’ll never forget Tarquin, or Kalla. But if you want this day gone, no one would blame you. Least of all me.” 

“Can… can I think about it?” he choked out, on the verge of keening for the emotions that day brought out in him.

“Of course, I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to remind you.”

Adrien’s head shook as he blew out a slow breath. “I never stop thinking of it, love.” His talons caressed the scarred side of his mate’s face. “You want to keep these?” he asked, trying to understand.

“Mhm. One day I’ll tell you about my team, the ones I lost on Omega.  _ Erash, Monteague, Mierin, Grundan Krul, Melenis, Ripper, Sensat, Vortash, Butler, Weaver, _ ” he recited the litany of names from memory, an obviously well practiced regime and only hesitated over the last one. “ _ Sidonis _ .” 

That last name Adrien thought he recognized, but he left it be for now, instead saying, “I’d like that.” Sensing that the conversation had come to an end, the Primarch stood and stepped out of the warm water to grab a few towels. “Come, let’s get dry and find something to eat.”

Although Garrus followed him, he apparently had not forgotten his earlier promise. “I seem to remember you saying you’d tell me what’s going on with you so that we can relax tomorrow?”

He sighed. “Caught me. The issue’s been Solregit’s new Primarch.” 

“Fidele?” Garrus asked as he finished drying himself off. “Isn’t he the Sundowner?”

“Exactly my problem. He’s been pleasant enough with the other Primarchs but outside of conference? He’s a troublemaker.”

“Want dad and I to take a look into him?” 

“Not yet. You’re going to be my security advisor, and as such we’ll need to keep a low profile on these sorts of things.” 

Garrus chuckled, a brow raising in challenge. “Undercover? I can work with that.”

“Behave…” Adrien warned, with a flat look that was ruined by his amused sub vocals. His mate just laughed louder, leading the way outside to the main house to collect dinner and enjoy the rest of their night.

+-+-+-+-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My kingdom for your comments!


	23. Loves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The many loves in our story get some screen time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pass the love to... 
> 
> [**Spicy_Gnome**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Spicy_Gnome/pseuds/Spicy_Gnome) because she puts up with so much. 
> 
> [**MizDirected**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MizDirected/pseuds/MizDirected): For some turian language additions where the English equivalent just didn’t work. Listed below...
> 
> Season of Laetitius (Cycle of Riches) Named because it is the time of year when crops and prey animals flourished, providing food enough for all. The harvest season.

 

Stepping outside mid-morning was a mild shock to Garrus’ system. The night’s thunderstorm had brought with it a wave of cooler air, the low-lying layer of overcast cloud was keeping Trebia’s rays out and the cool insulated layer in. It was a still and dreary day. Not yet raining, but perhaps it would later on in the afternoon.

Adrien stepped up behind him, close enough for the rail thin turian to feel the elder male’s warmth through his carapace. “Need something warmer, love?” he asked with a concerned hum as he nuzzled the side of his face with his own.

“There’s gear in the storage lockers if I need it,” he replied as he relaxed back into his mate, enjoying the solid feeling of him against his back. The sniper only allowed himself a half minute before he reopened his eyes to the sound of footsteps behind them, a single pair initially but after pushing this senses he could hear Solana’s feather light pace as well. “The remainder of our foursome is here.”

“Mhm...” Adrien intoned as he gave the paler grey turian a final light squeeze before pulling back to fetch their rifles from beside the doors. Garrus watched him over his shoulder, taking one of the offered cases and hefting it to the proper place on his back. The familiar weight settled him a little.

“Good morning,” Tiran greeted as he and his sister stepped through the old fashioned doors leading out to the back deck. Rifle case slung over his shoulder, and dressed in comfortable clothing. A simple pair of black pants, boots and a hooded brown jacket.

“Mornin’,” Sol offered as she looked Adrien over first before eying her brother, a scowl coming over her mandibles.

“What?” he asked with a single-armed shrug.

“No visor, G. That’s cheating.” She told him without a hint of remorse. He laughed and reached up to remove the device, stowing it in his pocket while she and Tiran headed down the few steps into the gardens, leading the way. Turning around and walking backwards she cocked her head to the side, a grin spreading across her face now. “And you know what? You’re shooting off side today.”

Garrus’ arms crossed over his keel as he glared at her, “Why the hell would I do that?”

“Makes us even!” the Blackwatch agent called out to him, turning forwards again to make pace with the charcoal plated male. She whispered something to him that was too faint to hear, but the doctor chuckled. Pulling her against his side as they continued down the path.

He might’ve argued a little more with her, but Adrien’s hand on his wrist caught his attention instead. His mate stepped up beside him again, this time whispering in his ear what Garrus thought was a reassurance… “-Not to worry love, you’ll probably still be better than the doctor.-” and turned out to be a tease instead.

The blue-painted turian gave off a hum in mock offence as he shoved his shoulder against the slightly taller male. Leading the way, he turned halfway around to see Adrien watching him from the top of the stairs, a handsome smile on his face, his eyes brighter than they’d been the day before. The retort died on his tongue, instead he shrugged again. “Come on, don’t need to give them a headstart as well.”

The Primarch caught up with him in a matter of a few long paces and together they followed the winding paths through the gardens towards the outdoor range, behind the training hall. It wasn’t a long walk, but the esthetic of the gardens made it enjoyable nonetheless. Ancient trees grew tall in this place thanks to the shelter the  _ maldis _ provided from the punishing winds of winter’s storms. He remembered playing in those trees as a child, seeing who could climb to the top branches the quickest between the cousins. Who could run the fastest between them.

A melancholy feeling overtook him, and Adrien’s hand wound with his own. His mate did not ask where swift change in mood had come from, just offered support. And Garrus took hold of it, winding himself around his partner savoring his heat and strength. 

By the time they reached the range, Sol and Tiran were just beginning to get it set up. The male was carefully removing their rifles from the case he’d been carrying, while Solana fiddled with the range’s holographic settings and set up the scorekeeper for the four turians. 

“What did you want to start with?” she asked, looking up from the orange glow her haptic interface shone in the dim clouded light. “Thirty metres?”

“Sounds fine,” Adrien replied as he let go of Garrus’ arm and moved to the station beside Tiran to set up his own rifle.

The range was capable of up to one-hundred meters from the standard starting line, stationary or moving holographic targets, a full suite for scorekeeping. The starting line was a covered overhang, protecting the users from the sun or rain and providing a countertop to settle gear onto. Walls between each of the ten stations helped to shield the others from the sound of rifle fire, they could be lowered or raised with the push of a button depending on if you were shooting as a group or solo.

Garrus stepped up beside Solana, speaking in a low voice. “Thanks for joining us,” he told her. “Haven’t seen much of you since I’ve been back, and I uh… I’m glad you’ve found someone.”

She grinned at him. “Right back at you. Doesn’t mean I’m going to let you shoot right side though.”

He laughed, giving her shoulder a light shove as he walked past her to set up. “Fine with me, just means you don’t get to shoot my Black Widow.”

“Your what!” she exclaimed, her task forgotten as she caught up with him at his station between Tiran and Adrien. She peeked over his shoulder as he placed the heavy case on his bench.

An amused scoff past his mandibles as he flicked it open, showing off the heavy sniper rifle that he’d fit with ultralight materials the day prior. Although the case also held his reliable older model Mantis that he planned to make use of for most of the day, he had wanted to test the Widow and knew Solana would want to have a go of it as well. “I’ve caught your attention I see,” he teased, hefting the rifle into his hands and checking it over.

“Don’t be rude, G...” she whined, hands making a grabby motion for the clean lines of the sleek black gun. He laughed and passed it to her once he’d finished confirming it was safe. She did the same, running though the standard motions before bringing it up to her eye, looking down the length of the sight.

Her purr of appreciation made Tiran chuckle in his deep gravelly tone. Garrus glanced behind himself, the older turian was leaning against the soundwall, arms crossed over his keel and a smile spreading over his mandibles. “Wish she’d look at me like that,” he said, sarcasm dripping from his words.

Garrus and Adrien burst into laughter when Sol didn’t reply, too focused on the expensive Spectre requisitioned rifle to hear her partner. Tiran made an over exaggerated sigh, throwing his hands up and going back to his own gear.

“Can I shoot it?” the shortest turian asked, a sparkle in her eyes as she passed it back to her brother, ignoring the laughter in favor of her question.

“Mhm,” he nodded. “Let me make sure the modifications I made are working alright first then you can shoot it till your heart’s content, Sol.” 

Her cheerful little trill made him smile a little wider, especially when she pressed her crest to his temple before leaving his cubby in favor of checking on the dejected turian one space over. Adrien stepped into the space she vacated, requesting the rifle with a small hum and open arms.

Garrus passed it to his mate and watched him go through the same motions he and Solana had, but he didn’t stop there. The elder turian brought it to his eye and sighted down the range, adjusting the scope ever so slightly before bringing it back down to cradle in his arms. “Not going to be too much recoil for you, love?” he asked quietly enough for only Garrus to hear, the undercurrent of worry wavering in his second voice as he ran one hand over his cheek. 

The sniper leaned into his mate’s talons. Clear-blue eyes shutting at the soft attention, “You worry too much.”

“Hm,” he scoffed lightly. Garrus opened his eyes to find golden ones staring intently at him. “I think I worry the right amount. Start with the Mantis at least?” 

“Of course,” he agreed to his mate’s stipulation and let him put the heavier sniper rifle down. Instead he took up his older model and ran through his checks as the holographic targets began to appear downrange. Adrien stepped out and back to his own lane, getting himself set up before the ‘get ready’ flag appeared at the far end of the field.

“Remember G! Shoot offside!” Solana reminded him from her station.

He rumbled in discontent, swapping his stance and calling out to her in challenge. “First to fifty points wins!” 

“This is so unfair,” Tiran complained, the nose of a Haliat Armory Equalizer poking out into his lane as the Doctor set up. Garrus recognized the paint job as one of Solana’s custom models from her earlier years.

Adrien’s voice answered from his opposing side. “I haven’t touched a sniper rifle in months Tiran, I’m sure you’ll do fine.” Garrus stifled a chuckle, deciding to keep the immediate innuendo to himself for the moment. “Prefer an assault,” he continued as the barrel of his Krysae came into the lane. The weapon told a different story, but he let it slide.

The Krysae was a fairly new model, modified from its original variant for better stopping power against Reaper troops. He remembered seeing Adrien carry it back on Manae, but as he said, his preference for the assault rifle had been clear.

Loading a fresh clip into the magazine, he took a few steadying breaths. The holographic signal started counting down from twelve and he shouldered the rifle on his off-side, as Solana had requested. It felt a little off, but when he rolled out his shoulder and resettled the rifle, it felt better. The pressure against his good shoulder, the feel of the stock against his cheek. He firmed up his stance, watching for the last three seconds to countdown. Breaths slow and even.

Four clear shots went off within seconds of one another. Solana whooped, having taken the lead in the first shot. He reloaded with perfect muscle memory and had his second shot down the range faster than any of the others, more than doubling his score. He laughed, this was exactly what he’d needed.

And by the sounds of those around him, just what the rest of them needed as well.

+-+-+-+

A little over an hour later Tiran was standing at the back of the range, watching as Garrus set up the Black Widow that he and his sister seemed to be so fond of. The sniper had shown his prowess was well earned, defeating the rest of them by a fair margin in multiple rounds, despite the fact he hadn’t worn the visor that seemed to live on his face. Adrien was standing at the light grey male’s side, speaking with him in low warm tones. He couldn’t hear the words but the intonation was easy to hear even at this distance.

The sky had lightened a little over the course of the morning, mild shadows forming when there was a thinner layer of cloud overhead. It was still calm, the breeze just light enough to feel on his charcoal plates and the rain had thankfully held off thus far. He took a breath of the cool air, letting its freshness seep into his damaged lungs. 

“ _ Ahem… _ ”

The doctor’s attention was pulled back to his partner as Solana curled into his side, stealing warmth from him by sneaking an arm behind his back inside his open jacket. He let her, dipping his head down to rest on top of hers and nuzzle into her short fringe with a pleased hum. Though they spent most nights together, they hadn’t had many opportunities like this one yet. His duties required him to work at all hours, and well over the hours required in a standard week, since arriving back on Palaven he’d only taken time off when switching from days to nights and the reverse. And even then, that time was mainly spent sleeping off the deficit.

Sol wasn’t much better. Although, since Garrus had been home she had made sure she was at the  _ maldis  _ a little more frequently. Tiran still wasn’t entirely sure what his prospective mate actually did, beyond being a Hierarchy Engineer. And that? Could mean anything. 

Watching Garrus and Adrien he felt a twinge of envy. They were so comfortable around one another, Adrien moulding himself into Garrus’ back as he steadied him for the first round. Refusing to let his partner shoot the powerful sniper rifle without assistance. His prospective brother argued that he was fine, his mate disagreed, and they’d eventually settled on their current position. 

“They seem to get along well,” Tiran said to break the silence, flicking his crest towards the couple. 

The blue-painted female giggled. “It’s weird. I’m used to Garrus being awkward around people, unless he’s in uniform or talking about work, he’s always been socially… hm... useless?” she settled on the word. A light huff of disapproval at her choice, it wasn’t quite right but it would do.

The neurologist pulled her in tighter as he hummed in consideration. “Well I think they’re talking about the sniper rifle… so maybe that counts as work?” He felt her shake her head against him.

“Maybe...” she sighed, pulling back a fraction to look up at him. Sol wasn’t much shorter, maybe three centimeters or so, but her sideways lean against him made the difference a little more stark. “Thanks for spending the day with us, I know shooting isn’t really your thing.” 

His score spoke for itself. The doctor trailed behind the other turians by a solid hundred points or so, but it didn’t matter to him. It had been nice to see the others enjoying themselves. 

“It was fun, and I think I’m getting better,” with a flick of his wrist his omni-tool’s interface popped up, displaying his accuracy rating from the start of the game to the end and it did indeed improve as the morning had gone on. “See look, you’ll make me a  _ -cough-  _ sharpshooter in no time.”

He felt her laugh against him, the rumbling light timbre of it warming his chest. “I think I like you just fine as a Doctor, Amore.” 

“I guess I’ll leave the shooting to you then,” Tiran told her. Curiosity finally getting the better of him and making him ask, “So what’s an engineer need to be so good with a sniper rifle for?” He tapped the haptic screen over her score, the closest to Garrus’ by a wide margin. 

“Suppose you won’t let me leave it at- my dad taught me well?”

His black crest nuzzled against her light grey one again. “If you want me to I will,” he told his potential mate, trusting her enough now that he’d known the Vakarian scion for months to be understanding of her need for secrecy.

“I’m a Blackwatch Engineer,” she admitted after a short moment of silence. “Infiltration Specialist. Which is why Garrus and dad will occasionally call me  _ Spook _ , as you’ve become so fond of doing.”

“Hm… I didn’t re... - _ cough- re _ alise there was another connotation for the name. I can stop?” 

She pulled away to look at him and shook her head. “I like it. Especially when you use it. The fact you started it because I kept sneaking up on you? Is a lot funnier than my family using it because of the job.” 

Her hand skimmed the edge of his collar, sliding back along the line of his extended mandibles. He’d never much liked the unique feature, but Solana’s appreciation for it had made his decision to keep them all the more worth it. It was a genetic trait from his mother’s side that she and Voss also carried. Voss had hers removed, and like him, Sheera had not. 

When her hand stilled, he realised he’d been silent too long.

“Well…” he began, undecided on how to react. Deciding lamely on, “That explains a lot.”

“Does it bother you?” Sol queried, her voice wavering just a bit over her words. Almost as though she was nervous of the outcome.

He reached up to cover her hand with his own, guiding it along the length of his fringe again while leaning into the touch. “Not at all. I’m a little surprised, I’ll admit. You’re uh… not able to talk about it much I guess?”

“They trust us to only speak about the things we can, to the people we trust. I’ve wanted to tell you for a while… the timing just never felt right.” Both of Sol’s hands were on his shoulders now, and she leaned in to press her pale crest against his darker one. Pulling back after a few seconds, Solana smiled at Tiran. 

And he took her face in his hands, about to pull her back in for a taste of Reverie when a loud bang sounded from the range followed by a whoop of laughter.

The spell between them was broken and Solana stepped back, turning towards her brothers with a hand on her waist, unintentionally accentuating the supportive curve. The doctor had to stifle a growl of want, turning it instead into a cough as he surveyed the scene unfolding on the range. Garrus had been pushed back into his mate, and he seemed surprised by that fact. Adrien was chuckling, rubbing the sniper’s shoulder and looking pleased with himself.

“Seriously?” Sol whined, sounding forsaken enough to gain their attentions. Her exaggerated pout made him laugh as she continued. “The second I turn my back? That’s not fair!”

Garrus’ head ducked down a little, his visor back in place over his eye, painting a blue glow over the side of Adrien’s face in the shaded alcove. The Primarch was the first to reply, taking the rifle from his mate’s hands and placing it carefully down on the bench. “I think it’ll need a few more adjustments Solana,” he told her, still smiling. “Nearly bowled us both over.”

The sniper ran his hand over the rifle before he turned around, “I think I undercompensated with the barrel adjustment. Give me a couple minutes and I’ll recalibrate it for you.” Adrien covered his mouth to stifle a snort of amusement and Garrus mock glared at him. “Hush.”

Tiran stepped up beside his partner, watching the pair argue with an amused lilt to his mandibles and tossing an arm over her shoulders. The younger turian pulled a tool kit from storage and went to work fixing his rifle while the elder watched on, offering suggestions as he worked. The focus on his face intense.

“So… anything else you’d like to do today, my little Spook?”

“Little?” She laughed, “I’ll show you little.” Elbowing him in the side, she pushed in to take him down. He moved with her, falling into the damp grass with a dull thud. The Blackwatch agent landed on top of him and they wrestled for a moment before she pinned him. 

Solana’s joyful laughter was joined by his own as he made a half hearted attempt at struggling against her lithe arms. “I yield,” Tiran conceded his defeat, bright-green eyes holding steady against her ice-blue ones, his head tilting to the side to offer her the softer black hide of his throat.

Her tawny-brown neck flushed an uncharacteristic blue at the implication, but she rose to his challenge by bringing her fangs down to brush against his throat. So light that he could barely feel her against him. Teeth were followed up by tongue and the doctor’s breath hitched at the contact. 

Another round fired from Garrus’ sniper rifle and the two of them looked over towards the range, Adrien was in control this time. Much to Solana’s brother’s chagrin it seemed as he was draped over his partner. The sight almost comical as the already tall turian needed to edge up on his toes to fit against his still-taller partner.

“That’s better!” the younger turian said aloud, seeming much happier with himself this time. He let go of Adrien and turned to see the scene he and Sol were making. Yet again, Tiran was happy no one could see him blush. Garrus chuckled, arms crossing over his keel as he leaned against his partner. “Widow’s ready for you Sol, unless you’re too busy…”

The Blackwatch agent was up and at her brother’s side in seconds, leaving him in the dewy grass alone. But he didn’t fault her for it, had someone given him the chance to play with some newfangled medical tool? He was sure he’d react the same way. And seeing Solana so happy made his heart sing… just a little. 

+-+-+-+

The sun was shining brightly overhead, the heat of the day blazing around John and Liara as they lazed on their private beach. The human was on his stomach half asleep, shirtless and baking in the afternoon rays. A light sheen of sweat covered his scarred back, a dotting of clean bandages covered the few burns that had yet to heal to protect them from the sun. Despite his skinweave his soon to be wife had insisted on sunscreen and that mingled with the sweat making him slightly sticky.

The resort hadn’t reopened to the public yet, but somehow the asari had managed to procure a few night’s stay on the tiny island of Antigua. It had been untouched by the Reapers, too small for them to raid for the population and having very few resources to mine, beyond pineapples and rum. 

Liara pushed herself up, looking across the tiny protected cove to the Atlantic Ocean on the North side. The empty white sand beach held a hundred or so high quality lounge chairs, along the water’s edge were catamarans for sailing, kayaks and paddle boats too. She wiped the sweat from her brow, eyes catching on her ring for the hundredth time that day. The diamond in the centre of the gold band caught the light perfectly, sending a rainbow of colours out from its centre. The smile that graced her lips was soft, her cerulean blue eyes seeing a thousand hues more than her human partner would have.

“Did I pick the right one?” John asked, pushing himself up carefully on his elbows. An imprint from the lounger on his face where he’d been pressed into it for too long. 

She covered her mouth to stifle the maidenly giggle. “I think so.” Holding her hand out to him when he requested it, she accepted the soft kiss he placed on her fingertips. “You never did mention how you came upon a ring in the middle of a war, John.”

“I’m not allowed to have secrets?” he teased. “I would have thought you already knew who helped me. What with all of your… hm… brokering?”

Her smile turned coy, fingers sliding along the length of his jaw before pulling him towards her for a real kiss. One which he returned without hesitation. 

“Kasumi helped,” the Commander admitted when he pulled back for air.

“Didn’t take much to coerce that out of you… I wonder what it would take to find out a few more secrets?” she challenged, pushing lightly so he rolled onto his back. In a moment she was straddling his hips pressing down into her lover, hands trailing through his short, damp chest hair and along the over warmed skin on his muscled arms. John’s hands steadied her above him as he greedily enjoyed the kiss.

The privacy of the beach was used to it’s fullest possible extent. Gentle waves lapping against the sandy beach and the cry of a few white egrets calling out to one another were their only company. The young couple’s tongues danced together as hands wound their way down each other’s bodies, John’s stopping to tease at pert breasts while Liara’s trailed lower still. A smirk on her supple lips as she teased over the rapidly hardening bulge in his shorts.

Shepard gasped, hips bucking into the pebbled blue hand. Since leaving the hospital they’d been making up for lost time, despite that fact? The human was still over primed and ready at the drop of a hat. Liara was quite taken with the expression, teasing him when she’d learned its meaning. Her bright laughter only served to rile him more, as he rocked into her hand and his mouth began to trail along the delicate line of her throat.

“On the beach?” she asked him through a pleased moan. 

John shrugged beneath her. “Why not? May as well knock another item of the list.”

Her thin brow rose at the remark. “List?”

“Bucket list. Human thing,” he explained shortly. “All the things you want to do before you die. And well… I think that I’d like to mark a few more items off with you.”

She stopped, pressing him down into the lounger. Her expression growing a little more serious as she stared into his eyes, blue on blue. “You’re not dying John.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he replied as he sat up, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and burying his face in her neck. “I’m not going anywhere, Liara. For the first time? I can promise you that.”

“Then… why the list?” her voice wavered over her query.

Smiling, John pulled away enough to catch her eyes again. The sparkle in them mischievous. “It’s not an actual fingers to keyboard list. More of a… hm… exaggeration of the things you want to try that border on dangerous, illegal, or well... sexually alluring. And even though I don’t plan on dying anytime soon? I wouldn’t mind marking a few things off.”

“I see…” Liara dragged out the words, her lips contorting into a sly grin. “I don’t suppose you’d want to share that list? Maybe I can help.”

His eyes darkened with lust. “Where should we start?”

“Oh… I don’t know,” her voice was coy, a finger tapping against her pale bottom lip in thought. Teasing him. “I suppose sex on the beach is on that list somewhere?”

“Number one!” John answered too quickly before grasping the back of her neck and pulling her back in for another passionate kiss. His free hand pulling the ties of her white bikini in attempts to remove it.

Liara’s hips bucked against his own. Hands grabbing at his shoulders for balance as she ground down into him. Enjoying the feeling of him pressed against her damp sex. A moan tumbling from her throat and into his mouth.

* _ PING* _

John ignored the sound that caught the asari’s attention, continuing to trail kisses down her jawline and neck. Her hands moved to his shoulders to slow him.

“John…”

“Leave it…” he growled against her skin.

_ *PING* _

Her omni-tool made another noise of protest at not being answered so she tried again. “That’s the personal tone. It’s probably important.”

“Later…”

She rolled her eyes, the distinctly human expression having rubbed off on her over the course of the last few years, and climbed off his lap, despite his complaint. Dropping onto her own lounger in the shade of the palm frond covered palapa the asari pulled on her lace beach cover up and grabbed the omni-tool from her bag.

“It’s Garrus,” she told John once she’d slid the bracelet on and opened the haptic interface. She carried a few different tools in addition to her sub-dermal implanted one. Each having its own uses. She pressed the accept call key and waited for the connection to go through.

“Well in that case?” the human followed her onto the other lounger, but instead of squeezing into the frame of her omni-tool’s camera, he moved between her thighs and finished untying her bikini bottoms. 

“John!” 

“Shhh… he’ll never know…” he replied kissing her knee before trailing down the length of her thigh. She stifled a moan as the connection went through and their turian friend’s face appeared on the screen.

_ “Liara, nice to see you.” _ Came his flanging, dual-toned voice over the thousands of lightyears between them. He waited for her response and when he didn’t get one, the turian continued. “ _ I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” _

The asari pulled on the serene mask she’d learned to hold as an information broker on Illium and kneed her lover in the side as she did so. “Not at all, Garrus. What can I do for you?”

He appeared to be sitting in a kitchen of some sort. A line of cabinets along the wall behind him, turian styled tableware seen through the glass doors.  _ “A few things actually. Is John around? I’d like to speak with both of you if I can.” _

“He’s uh…” she paused thighs quivering against the human’s oral attentions. “He’s indisposed at the moment but should be able to join us shortly. How’s Palaven?”

_ “Not as nice as wherever you are today,” _ he laughed obviously noticing the beach behind her.  _ “Late spring cold snap, it’ll be gone by tomorrow. And where might you two be? _ ”

“Small island in Earth’s equatorial region. Quite nice this time of year.” 

He hummed in answer, agreeing with her assessment. “ _ Well I suppose that means John’s well enough to travel? Any idea of how long before you two could make it to Palaven? Adrien and I were starting to look at dates... _ ”

“Dates?” she asked over a bitten tongue, voice rising in the middle of the word. John smirked against her heat, looking up at her through half lidded eyes. Liara looked back at Garrus.  

_ “The uh… bonding ceremony I mentioned.” _ The light grey turian looked away from the screen, free hand reaching out to accept a steaming mug from someone off screen.

“Hold on just a moment, Garrus.” Before he could answer she hit the pause command and pushed John away from her. The arm with the omni-tool on it going above her head and the other to her lover’s shoulder. “Quit it!” 

“Nope.” He grabbed at her hips again, pulling her down the lounger and pressing back into her moist heat. Moaning hungrily as he began working on her again. 

“By the goddess...” she moaned, hips rising to meet his mouth.

_ “Liara? Are you alright?”  _ she heard their friend’s voice coming from her omni-tool. Apparently she had actually not hit the mute button.

“ _ Nice beach... “ _ a second, deeper flanged voice said over the com and both she and John froze. 

Very slowly Liara brought the omni-tool back down to her face. Two sets of eyes, one blue and one gold, watched the purple blush spread across her cheeks. “Primarch Victus. A pleasure to see you.” She looked past the camera at John who wore a sheepish expression and shrugged at her. 

“ _ Adrien is fine, Ms T’Soni. Thank you.” _

“Liara,” she corrected. “To answer your question Garrus, it looks like it’ll be a couple months yet.”

“ _ We were looking at mid-Laetitius,” _ Adrien answered, the amused smirk on his mandibles made her blush even more despite his even tone. 

She did the math in her head. “That’s December here this year.” 

John finally appeared beside her after wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, offscreen. “December sounds good. Uh… what season is that?”

_ “We call it harvest, but I think you call it fall?” _ Garrus replied around the edge of his mug, stifling a laugh at the dark red colour on John’s cheeks. The human obviously hadn’t expected Adrien to be on the line either. “ _ Now that you’re… ahem… not too busy. I wanted to ask if you’d stand with me during the ceremony, John.” _

“Of course!” he replied, a grin spreading across his face at the offer. “But I thought you didn’t have a ‘Best-Man’ in turian wed- I mean bonding ceremonies.”

“ _ We don’t. Typically siblings are asked stand with the parties to be mated.” _

“What about Solana?” Liara asked, not cruelly but with honest curiosity.

Adrien took over the explanation. “ _ She’ll be Garrus’ first. And Shepard would be his second. My brother Titus and friend Trebax will stand with me.” _

“ _ Trebax Corinthus, _ ” the sniper helpfully supplied at the slightly confused expression on the Commander’s face. “ _ You don’t have to if you’re not comfortable with it, Shepard.” _

“No, I want to. You’ll just have to tell me what’s involved.”

Liara smiled at her lover, she knew a lot more than he did about turian culture and there was one thing that she knew John wasn’t going to be ready for. “Can you send us the words early, Garrus? I’ll help him practice. Or at least try…”

“Words?” The human asked confused.

Garrus nodded.  _ “We uh… sing Shepard.” _

“Sing?”

_ “Sing.” _ he reiterated. 

“Seriously?”

_ “It’s true,” _ Adrien chuckled. “ _ I suppose that means humans do not?” _

John considered for a moment before answering. “Honestly? I haven’t actually ever been to a human wedding unless you count that one just after basic…” he smiled at the memory. “And that one was in Vegas so I remember verrryyy little of that unorthodox affair.” 

The Primarch laughed with him and then lapsed into a brief explanation.  _ “Well to give you a quick description, the ceremony itself is private. I’ve never heard of one ranging above twelve. With the help of our chosen we will sing to one another, the acoustics of the temple will carry our voices to everyone else in attendance. Our officiant, in this case Castis, Garrus’ father, will say a few words to the spirits and we will solidify our bond in their light. We sing together, and then join the rest of the party.” _

The sniper continued where his mate left off.  _ “Afterwards it’s a big damn party, food drinks, music. Everyone is invited to it, so hopefully we can convince you to do a couple of pickups with the Normandy?” _

“Oh I see how it is,” Shepard teased, relaxing back into the lounger with a bare arm slung over her shoulder. “Get me to say yes then tell me I’m the chauffeur.”

Liara shoved his arm for their friend, but he took the teasing in stride. “ _ No… I expect you to convince Joker to be the chauffeur. And Liara, I’ll send the Vakarian ballad along. Appreciate your help on this one.” _

“Of course. It’ll be lovely to hear you,” She smiled at the light blue flush of his neck and at Adrien’s reaction to it, as the elder male nuzzled against his mate’s cheek.

The turian cleared his throat. “ _ I suppose we should let you two get back to your vacation. Talk soon?” _

The foursome finished saying their goodbyes, leaving off with a promise to speak again soon. Liara also promised to check in on a few contacts for them in reference to Hierarchy affairs. The line wasn’t secure enough for them to discuss anything in depth, but the asari caught Adrien’s eyes when he mentioned it. Seeing the questions lingering in them, and knowing that he intentionally made sure Garrus didn’t. 

Once the call was over, and their only company a pelican dive-bombing the shallows in search of fish, did the couple get back to their earlier activities. 

“So about this list….” Liara mumbled against his lips. He acknowledged her with a pleased moan. “Can I add things to it?”

John pulled back long enough to reply. Hands getting busy again, pulling both her cover up and top away. “Definitely…”  

+-+-+-+

Castis settled himself into the driver’s seat of his skycar, bringing it out of the garage and to the  _ maldis’ _ front gates. It was going to be a full vehicle this morning, both his children and Adrien were to join him for the trip in to Hierarchy headquarters. Solana was up for reassignment and Garrus was to be joining him in the Security department.

The dreary weather from the day prior was gone as fast as it came in, there was nary a cloud in the skies this morning, just a few cirrus wisps high in the atmosphere. It was going to be warmer again today too, the growing season in full swing.

“Good morning,” he greeted as the trio climbed into the car with him. Solana in the front, his sons in the back. His born children intoned a response and Adrien did so verbally.

“Castis,” Adrien began, already keel deep in his omnitool. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

The eldest Vakarian took the skycar out of park and set it up for departure. “We’ll be on time, not to worry. Sol, did you need to be dropped off enroute?” he asked to steer the conversation away from the Primarch, giving him the time he needed to catch up on his reports.

His daughter relaxed back into her seat. “I’m fine. I share paint with Garrus, not like I can hide for long… well… not unless I want to try.” She grinned at him, all teeth. 

He shook his head and finished turning on the autopilot before turning back towards his son. “Garrus?”

“Hm?” the pale-grey turian looked up from his datapad. “No. I’m alright. I’ll disappear later if I need to. Why? Do you think I should?” 

“You’re fine, love.” Adrien cut in, placing his hand on Garrus’ knee absently. “It’s quite obvious I left the other night with your father, my return with your family will be noticed, but not out of place. Besides…” he finally looked up, “I thought we were done hiding?”

Castis caught the nervous look Garrus gave Adrien before he turned away. Trying to give them as much privacy as he could in the confines of the skycar. Instead he focused his gaze out the front windshield, watching the slowly improving landscape pass by below them. As always Palaven’s local flora was quick to overtake the ruined buildings and burned out fields. The planet’s high temperatures and fairly moist air helped to sow the seeds of regrowth quickly. Not to mention the colonization experts who were using all of their many talents to fix the garden world as quickly as possible. 

The trip was a little under an hour, and the majority of it was taken in silence. When the Vakarian clan leader brought his car up to the front of the Capitol building, Solana offered to park the vehicle and he agreed. Stepping out while she slid over the centre console into his seat. 

Adrien and Garrus took a half minute longer than he did to exit the skycar, which he assumed was due to his son’s nerves. As much as the sniper wanted to get back to work, Castis could see the tension coiled within him. Could taste the apprehension in the air and feel the thrum of his uneasy sub vocals. The light grey male waited patiently for his sons to join him, and when they did, he immediately dropped the role of  _ father  _ to slide into Security Chief.

Together the three of them climbed the short set of stairs to the temporary Capitol building, passing through security unhindered. Castis and Garrus a pace ahead of Adrien as was proper for their positions. When they’d passed through the doors, he turned to his mated-in son. “Primarch, we’ll see you at the security briefing this afternoon.”

“Thank you Security Chief Vakarian, I appreciate your assistance. Advisor,” he locked eyes with Garrus who nodded to him, the darker male’s mask cracking just a smidge with his intense gaze.

“Primarch,” his son ground out eventually, voice formal and tight.

Adrien left them then, turning on heel and heading towards his offices, his assistant meeting up with him partway down the hallway already talking at lightspeed and passing him a datapad. He and Garrus watched them go, only once Adrien was out of sight did Castis attempt to get his son to walk away. 

They were garnering attention already, and so the Security Chief led his newly acquired Security Advisor away towards his own office at the opposing end of the building. The halls were made of stone, the building as ancient as Cipritine herself even though the majority of the offices had been retrofitted multiple times over the years the aesthetic of the old capitol building had been kept the same. Repairs seemed to be progressing well, each office they passed was full to the brim with staff.

It didn’t take long for Castis and Garrus to reach his small office. He let his son step in ahead of him and closed the door behind them. Nothing in the room was out of place from when he’d left the day prior, but out of paranoid habit he ran a quick scan of the room on his omni-tool. When he was satisfied he sat down at the single metal desk, gesturing for the taller turian to do the same.

“Now that you’ve been formally reinstated I’ll give you a full briefing on current affairs, I assume you’ve read the reports I forwarded to you?”

“Mhm,” Garrus nodded to him, calmly waiting for him to continue on with the standardized briefing, the very same structure as he’d heard a thousand times over while working for C-Sec. 

“The expectation will be a standard houred week of work unless otherwise dictated by your physician. Doctor Mephran has been forthcoming with your status and his expectations, should you require-”

“Dad,” Garrus cut him off with a hand held in the Hierarchy symbol for stop. “I’m aware of my limitations. What I need to know is where I rank and what you need me to do. I’ve read the reports, I’m aware of the status of Palaven and Galactic affairs. I understand our biggest issue at the moment, beyond the stores shortages, is the Separatist movement.”

Castis didn’t stop the wry tilt his mandibles fell into. “I suppose you’ve read all of my files as well?” he asked, raising the arm that held his omni-tool. At Garrus’ nod he blew out a small huff of a laugh. “Should have expected that. In that case, you’re still ranking at a General’s level... as you were during the war. If you chose to be reinstated in the Hierarchy military instead of continuing your service as a consultant then I expect you would be granted that rank.”

“That’s… interesting...” he said without intonation.  

“That is where the citizen file lists you, not very far down from the current Primarch if I’m being entirely honest with you, Garrus. There’s a reason you were being saluted and called  _ sir _ on Manae. You have just under two years of mandatory service left, once you’ve aged out you can choose to stay or leave as you see fit.”

His son’s face dropped into his waiting hands, a disbelieving laugh coming from under his breath. “I really feel like I’m older than twenty-eight. Got too used to being around humans, started believing I was actually thirty-three.”

“My apologies for crushing that reality, son.” He watched the younger male for a moment, taking in the tight line of his shoulders, trying to see beyond the immediate tension to the source of his stress. “I can find you a position elsewhere if you’d prefer. You’re a valuable asset, but there are other departments that could make use of you. Or we can have the doctor defer you…”

“No,” he snapped. “This is where I should be. Where I can help our people best,” Garrus cut off his stream of thought, dropping out of his son persona and back into the military advisor’s one that he’d earned over the past year. “Keep on with your briefing, Security Chief.”

“Sir,” Castis nodded to him, flicking a few keys on his omni-tool to dim the lights and bring the presentation up on the large screen behind his desk. He stood, lapsing into his role as Gar- the military advisor watched him. Scrupulous blue eyes read each line of text, assessing his every word. 

This was the  _ Advisor Vakarian _ that Castis had heard about. 

And he couldn’t be more impressed.

+-+-+-+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot hole fill time! 
> 
> Fact 1: A turian year is approximately the length of 14 human months.  
> Fact 2: On the wiki all character ages are referenced in human years.  
> Fact 3: Garrus is said to be 2 years younger than Shepard in ME1
> 
> Thus here's my timeline, question me in the comments or email me if you'd like to argue!  
> 2153 Born (0)  
> 2170 Start basic (17 human, 15 turian)  
> 2174 Joins Hasistim (21 human, 19 turian)  
> 2177 Joins C-Sec (24 turian, 21 turian)  
> 2179 Makes Detective jr grade (26 human, 22 turian)  
> 2180 Full Detective (27 human, 23 turian)  
> 2183 ME1 (28 human, 24 turian)  
> 2183-85 Omega (29-31 human, 25-27 turian)  
> 2185 ME 2 (32 human, 27 turian)  
> 2186 ME3 (33 human, 28 turian)
> 
> VV
> 
> PS: Yes, Adrien (62) is a nest-robber and he's ok with that.


	24. The Attempt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the months pass by, tensions rise in parts of the Hierarchy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies I'm late again. I hope these 10k words are worth it!
> 
> Thanks to:  
> [ **Kuraiummei**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuraiummei/pseuds/Kuraiummei) and [**Spicy_Gnome**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Spicy_Gnome/pseuds/Spicy_Gnome) For the beta work!
> 
> Character notes: This is what [Tiran](https://e621.net/post/show/698723/2014-alien-close-up-duo-green_eyes-male-mass_effec) looks like for anyone curious, the artist is [**shade-shypervert**](https://e621.net/post/index/1/shade-shypervert) and their stuff is super pretty!
> 
> Translations:  
> Ntónats = Timbits  
> Maccha tisane = Garrus’ favorite kind of tea, it has a natural sweet, earthy taste.

 

Today was a good day.

Finally, after months of steady work, the treaty with Digeris had been signed. The cluster’s Primarch had agreed to the terms Primarch Victus had negotiated with them and reaffirmed their loyalty to the Hierarchy. It was like a breath of fresh air in Adrien’s lungs. An immense, uplifting feeling. A long, renewing exhale escaped him as he closed his eyes and tilted his crest back towards the ceiling.

Heavy mandibles tilting into a smile, the Primarch of Palaven opened his eyes and caught his Lieutenant’s, decidedly amused, grin.

“Something funny, Rebas?” he inquired, undertones betraying his pleased mood.

“Not a thing sir,” the other male offered, his mandibles flared outwards displaying the fact he was quite entertained with his superior’s relief. Though, he did manage to stifle a chuckle with the back of his hand as he slouched in his chair at the conference table.

Adrien was in too good of a mood to reprimand him it. _Far and away_ too good. Stormy-gold eyes sparkled a little as he stood from behind his desk, leaving the mess of datapads where they lay. It could all be dealt with the next day. Right now? All he planned to do was go home and celebrate with his mate.

“That will be all for today. I’ll see you in the morning Lieutenant.”

The brown-plated turian nodded to him, smile still lingering in the tilt of mandibles as he excused himself. Adrien stretched once he was alone, appreciating the small pop his shoulders made.

Once the tall turian had adjusted his tunic he made for the doors, sending a quick message to Garrus as he walked through the stone hallways, the staff that remained in the building’s corridors at this hour all separated for him as he passed by. In the message he let his mate know to expect him a little later than usual, wanting to make a quick pitstop at one of the shops enroute.

No sooner than Adrien reached the top of the Capitol building’s stairs did he receive a reply.

‘ _Bring me something nice. VV.’_

_-G_

The Primarch smirked at his omnitool, closing out the program without sending a reply. His mate wasn’t one for overt affection, but knew that Adrien liked it and indulged him on occasion. Mainly with the crests touching emoticon on his texting app. It was silly. Something a sixty-something year old Primarch shouldn’t be indulging in.

But... he _really_ did like it.

Behind closed doors, Garrus was as devoted as any lover could be. He took to the domestic duties that Adrien hated like a fish to water. Though his strength had returned, his partner wasn’t allowed to be in the office longer than the standard work week as per his doctor’s orders, and since Adrien worked half again as many hours the younger turian had the time to do the tasks that the elder neglected on top of his insane workout routine.

Even if the sniper’s incessant need to have everything put away drove the military leader insane at times, he’d take having Garrus with him over anyone else in the galaxy. There was… something special about him.

The skies were just starting to cloud over in anticipation of a late afternoon storm as he moved through the streets on his way home. The pair had taken to spending work nights at his apartment and off days at the _maldis_. In Adrien’s opinion, the drive left too much dead time each day, despite Castis making the trip daily.

Well… that and he liked having his own space. Ever since Taquin had left for basic the Primarch had lived alone, despite having done a few crowded starship tours, he was used to the solitude of his own barrack on base or his own family home that he’d shared with his younger brother’s family. Neither of those places had been so busy as the current Vakarian _maldis_ , with the Melandra and Venez clans living there too.

As Adrien walked alone through the streets he saw a few familiar faces, the shopkeepers and regulars on his short two kilometer trip. The single asari handing out rations to the construction workers at one of the many sites along the route, the turian amputee in his wheelchair watering the plants outside the restaurant that he’d owned before the war and turned into a refugee centre when it ended.

It was peaceful. Not since the Unification Wars had a Primarch needed an armed guard to escort them on a daily basis. While travelling and attending offworld meetings, it was a necessary precaution. But Adrien was glad he was able to reinstate the tradition now that the Reaper War was over and he was on Palaven soil.

The route was a walking path only, skycar traffic directed further north and above the bustling streets below. On the roads in the centre of the buildings a few turian-powered vehicles moved along at a fast pace, taking people distances too far to walk or pulling carts along with goods or deliveries. Even the construction equipment needed to be brought onto this street by air, cranes and mass effect field technology aiding the cause.

Adrien arrived at the doors of his favorite café in record time, stepping inside the dimly lit building with a nod to the server he’d gotten used to seeing he joined the line. The young turian female smiled at him, treating him the same way she treated every other regular. Looking at the handwritten menu above their heads, the slate coloured male perused the day’s options. They changed regularly with what the staff managed to scavenge, salvage or purchase at the markets, but they kept the aesthetic intact despite that fact.

The small shop had a calming effect on Victus, although he supposed that it was intentional. From the dim lighting and cool colours, to the soothing music they played in the background, the design of the shop was serene. There was nothing in this place that would remind someone of the war, save the electronic donation box beside the register and the plastic tarping that covered some lasting damage to the back wall. The rest of the shop had been painstakingly repaired and restored over the past four months since the war ended.

“What can I get for you today?” she asked in a bubbly, warm tone when he’d reached the front of the line.

His golden eyes moved from the chalkboard to the brown pair watching him. The ghost of a smile spreading on his mandibles as he leaned in and spoke quietly to her. “Any chance you’ve got any real maccha tisane hidden back there?”

Three manicured talons tapped against the counter as she considered the request. “I just might,” her light grey fringe disappeared below the counter as she bent down to look through the cabinet beneath the register. Her pretty voice was muffled as she asked, “Celebrating something Primarch?”

“I suppose I am,” he hummed in easy reply.

A brief _AHA_ , sound came from below. “Found it!” the young female announced as she stood back up, an old wooden box in her hands.

“Wonderful, thank you. Is there enough for two?”

Her grin switched from pleased to coy, “I’m on shift for another few hours, sorry about your luck.”

“Too bad,” Adrien chuckled at the teasing tone, but his sub vocals gave off a tone of disinterest which she seemed to understand immediately. Her flirting dropped off and she moved back into the realm of just friendly.

“How would you like them?”

A few minutes later the Primarch was out the door and headed the last half kilometer or so to his apartment. Piping hot to-go cups in a tray with a package of _ntónats_ for he and his mate to share.

If the domineering male was honest with himself, he hoped there was potential for a repeat of the pastry incident from a few weeks ago. This time he’d have better control over himself and his mate. They hadn’t played that game since, but they had discussed it at length. Ground rules and the like. The Primarch knew it would be fun, and admittedly… Garrus was much more food motivated these days.

His mate’s workout routine seemed to be working perfectly. He’d been gaining weight like crazy, and packing most of it into muscle. The sniper was beginning to resemble his old self, clocking in at a solid 100kg. Which, according to Garrus, was what he weighed in at when he worked for C-Sec.

Deep baritone sub vocals hummed a pleased sound, Adrien was almost able to see the sharp edges of his mate’s hips when he closed his eyes, stopping for a moment to allow a cart to pass on the perpendicular street. The tight muscles under the light grey hide of Garrus’ abdomen when he arched on the bed, the feel of strong arms clinging around his own shoulders.

The elder male’s mouth salivated at the thought of his mate splayed out on the mattress before him, writhing with pleasure as his long blue tongue licked along a damp seam.

With a shake of his head, Adrien refocused on his walk at a slightly quicker pace now that he had a plan in mind. The tall concrete building was just coming into view. Tight shoulders relaxed and the smile his face grew a little larger. All the things he wanted to do with his mate this evening coming to the forefront of his mind.

A few other turians were walking towards him on the sidewalk, and he slid to the edge of path to allow them to pass. The gaggle talking loudly amongst one another about the day they’d had working on reconstruction efforts, paying no heed to the fact their Primarch had moved out of their way. Adrien chuckled internally, enjoying the simple pleasure of being anonymous as he walked home from the office. Just another turian with take-away.

He could see the building’s caretaker, Freet, working away on the gardens as he approached and was about to call out in greeting to the turian whom he’d once served with when someone bumped into him, making the taller male stumble. He managed to save the drinks, only by virtue of their having lids securely attached.

Stifling his growl of displeasure and his immediate want to reprimand the offender, he steadied himself. Forcing down the urge to react and instead play the appropriate roll.

“Are you alright?” the slate coloured male asked, expecting the other male to apologize since it was him that bumped into the Primarch and not the other way around.

“Fine Primarch Victus,” the shorter male, clad in standard Hierarchy light armor, replied. Adrien was taken aback by the fact the other turian knew who he was, but he didn’t have very long to consider it as the drinks were smacked out of his hands and he was shoved into the alleyway behind himself with a strong arm. “You, however, won’t be for long!”

Without missing a beat the military leader took a fighting stance, throwing off his confusion and facing the unknown attacker as he came at him with a nasty looking blade the length of his arm.

“What is the meaning of this?” Adrien yelled at the assailant as he dodged backwards out of harm’s way, making sure his voice boomed in the alley.

They didn’t reply just brought the blade forwards with an excess of speed to try and gut him. Adrien got his arms in between them, jumping back as the weapon neared his unplated abdomen and he kept backing up until he hit the wall. Using it as a springboard he threw himself towards the armored male, trapping the blade-wielding arm against his chest and hitting the male’s elbow.

The hit didn’t phase him, and instead the assailant tried to punch him with his free arm. Using his size against the other male, Adrien forced him off balance, shoving him towards the ground and pulling the blade free of his hand. The Primarch’s knee went to the male’s back as he held him firmly by the blade-arm, twisting it uncomfortably and using it as a tool to keep the man down.

“What do you want?” he growled through panted breaths.

The assailant struggled against him, but to no avail. “You’re what’s wrong with the Hierarchy!” he cried out. “You and the rest of your damn military! We want nothing to do with you! Leave us alone!”

“Us? Who is us?”

“Digeris!” a voice came from behind the Primarch, and his head whipped around to the sound of it and the pistol pointed towards his head. The group he’d passed by not five minutes ago was standing at the mouth of the alley, each of them with a gun in their hand and nasty sneers on their faces.

Adrien swallowed his retort, narrowing his eyes at them. Taking in each of their faces, all marked in the green paint of the Digeris colony except for one, and that turian was painted in Sundowner red. It had finally happened, the separatist uprising had begun. And now? Not a hundred meters from his home, from his mate, Adrien Victus was going to die for the cause.

+-+-+-+-

It had been a lovely day thus far for Freet. The auburn turian had spent the majority of it outdoors, tending to the plants out front of the apartment building he managed. It seemed a little silly to be working so hard on the aesthetics of the yard when there was still an excess of rubble and dilapidated buildings in the area.

But beauty was important. Or at least that’s what his bondmate had told him time and time again, even when he didn’t quite believe it himself. The asari loved it when he gardened, and if he could bring just a little light into her day when she arrived home that night, then all his work would be worth it.

Freet had managed to procure some flowering plants from the markets earlier in the growing season, and they were coming into full bloom now that it had been a few months. The blue flowers were closed up for the day now, but would soon begin to open as the skies darkened and Terbia hid behind her twin moons for the night.

He stood up, stretching out his back and gazed out at the pedestrians passing by. The old turian caught sight of one of his residents on his walk home from work. His old Captain, Victus. And the sight of the male made him grin, he and his mate reminded him of the early days of his bonding. The missteps, the bringing of gifts and food.

It was all so nostalgic.

His hand raised in greeting, but Victus didn’t see it. His attention was on a lightly armored male turian instead. Freet’s expression fell from his mandibles and instead they tightened to his face when the newcomer hit the tray from the Primarch’s hands and shoved him into the alley. He was already moving towards the doors of the building when he heard a shout.

It made him run faster.

Freet barely made it to the front desk before his omnitool connected to the turian he knew would be far better equipped to help than his old bones. Dirt covered talons grabbed for his pistol as the Primarch’s mate’s voice came over the screen.

_{Vid-call requested - Pending - Request Accepted}_

“ _Freet! What can I do for you? Uh… Freet you dial me accidently again?_ ” the gruff voice asked him sounding confused. Considering all the male would likely be able to see was his desk, he didn’t blame him.

The building manager kept moving as he rushed his reply, “Get down here and bring your gear, Victus is in trouble!”

Chancing a glance at the screen as he ran back towards the front door, the auburn plated turian saw the change in the young male’s face. Eyes hardening to ice. “ _Where?_ ” He was already moving, the screen blurred.

“100 meters from the front door, alleyway between 46 and 48.”

_{Vid-call disconnected. User Vakarian offline.}_

Freet had made it outside, and immediately noticed that there were six turians standing at the entrance to the alley now. The older male slowed when he got within fifty metres, taking cover behind a large metal dumpster. Still too far away to hear what they were yelling back and forth about, but at least yelling meant the Primarch was still alive.

Glancing back towards the apartment building he caught sight of a blue blur rushing out the doors. Standing halfway up, he waved for Vakarian to join him. Watching his approach, he took stock of the male. Face hardened to a soldier's mask, grip firm on the sniper rifle in his hands. The relaxed blue sweater and tight black pants were a startling shift from the heavy weapon in his hands and the modified pistol that sat on his hip.

“He was shoved into the alley by a single armored attacker, when I got back outside there were the six others.”

Vakarian nodded to him. “Go back inside, call the emergency line. Don’t let anyone else outside. Understood?”

Freet shook his head. “No can do. I’m not leaving you two alone against seven, potentially more.”

A dark, black blooded chuckle hit his ears. “There won’t be seven for long.”

The savage sub vocals that sounded from the younger male’s throat scared the seasoned veteran into complying. He made for the doors of the apartment building, only chancing a look back when he heard the distinct boom of a sniper rifle go off. Vakarian had already reloaded and was setting up for a second shot, two of the attackers fallen to the ground and the rest thrown into chaos.

The shift in his tenant was stark. Freet was used to the slightly socially awkward young male whom he could always rely on to help him fix the generator. The turian he left enough kava in the pot for when he came in from his daily run at 0600, like clockwork. The friendly neighbour who held the elevator for other residents and took the stairs if the lift was full. The smiling war hero always willing to trades stories about the good old days.

Not… whoever it was he’d just spoken with. It was like Garrus had become a different being. The old turian swallowed down the sinking feeling and sent a call for strength to the Spirits, in hopes they’d hear him and grant the pair safety.

+-+-+-+-

 _‘How kind of them to stand in a nice, straight… line for me,_ ’ Archang- _Garrus_ mused darkly as he lined up his second shot and took it. Downing a third turian with all the precision of the expert marksman he was.

A few shots hit his cover as he ducked back behind the heavy metal dumpster. The sniper checked his omnitool, it was still cooling from the massive overload he’d sent out in the seconds before firing his first shot. In lieu of that option, he flicked his visor covered eye to its thermal imaging mode and checked the position of the enemies. Two had broken off from the pack and were coming towards him.

‘ _Perfect.’_

Sliding his hand into his sweater’s pocket he produced a single proximity mine. In his haste, he’d only managed to grab the one off his workbench. The rest were in the locked cabinet in the bedroom. Garrus had been working on his rifle at the time, so that and the pistol were the only two weapons he’d managed to grab. And just the three clips, one was already used up. The Widow ate thermal clips like they were nothing.

The pair coming towards the Advisor’s cover split up, continuing to pepper the metal wall with rounds to ensure he stayed behind the dumpster as they each took a side. The strategist in him took over, and a plan formed in his head.

The blue-painted male waited for the turians to get within a few metres of his position. The one on his left called out in warning to him. “Come out from behind there and you won’t be hurt! Our quarrel isn’t with you!”

An amused huff left his mouth. ‘ _Right. That’s why you’re shooting at me…’_

He cleared his throat, putting on his best scared civilian voice as he called out, “Don’t shoot! I’m coming out!” Garrus reached his arm out, hiding the mine in the palm of his hand. No sooner than his arm cleared the side of the dumpster did the merc shoot at him. The shot grazed his arm and he stifled the immediate wince as he threw the mine. It went off with a satisfying boom, but the light grey turian paid it no mind as he was already rolling to the opposing side. Grabbing the Widow at the midpoint of his roll and aiming as he came into the open, firing his third shot.

The merc was startled by the explosion and her shot went wide, clipping his right shoulder instead of centre of mass. The green-painted female slumped to the ground, the perfect headshot between her eyes just starting to dribble as Garrus’ arm gave out and he dropped his rifle.

The sniper growled in frustration at her lucky shot, drawing his pistol with his uninjured, off-side. Forever thankful that Solana had been forcing him to practice with it over the past months whenever they hit the range together, her excuse levelling the playing field between them. The competition she provided ensured that he became quite proficient with his left side.

He took a half second to confirm the first merc was dead, the bits of bluish grey that remained of him were enough to know that it had been a quick death for the male. Taking off at a run, Garrus made it to the mouth of the alley. A quick scan from his visor told him that the three he’d shot earlier were gone to the spirits as well… whether they deserved it or not, it didn’t matter.

Sirens were blaring in the distance as the tall ex-officer inched closer, back flat against the concrete wall on the closer of the two buildings as he peeked around the corner. A half-sigh of relief fell from his mouth at the sight of Adrien on his feet, holding a knife to one of the mercenaries’ throats and using the lightly armored male as a shield against a single attacker.

“The treaty’s already been signed!” Adrien shouted at the red-painted aggressor. “Digeris has chosen to remain in the Hierarchy and Solregit will follow.”

“Never!” the male in plain clothes hissed at him, sub vocal tones raging beneath the surface of his voice. “We will never submit!”

The green-painted turian stuck between the two of them struggled against Adrien’s hold, throwing himself back into the Primarch with all his strength. It was enough to make his mate stumble backwards, but not let go.

“Never!” he shouted before crying out in pain as Adrien twisted the arm further up his back and let the knife dig into the softer underside of the turian’s jaw. Not enough to maim, but enough to draw blood. “Huerk…” the merc choked against the blade.

The one with red Sundowner markings and the gun pointed at his partner yelled, “Drop the knife Victus!”

“Hear that?” Adrien asked instead, stalling for time. “Those are sirens, if you run now you’ve got a chance to get out alive. You stay in this stalemate? You’re done.”

Instead of making a run for it, the turian laughed without humor. “You think this is over?” One round flew out of his pistol, the sloppy shot struck the male between them through his cheek and killed him instantly. “You think it matters! Kill us and another will take our- huwaa!”

The sniper was already moving, the second before the round left the red-painted male’s pistol. He charged him, taking him down by the waist and pinning him to the ground. The roar that left his throat feral as he slammed the butt of his gun into the downed turian’s crest, the resounding crack enough to surely give him a bad concussion as the light left his eyes and he was knocked unconscious.

His shoulders heaved with unspent adrenaline as he sat overtop of the fallen mercenary, a feral growl emanated from his chest. Logically, Garrus knew they needed answers and keeping the male alive would be the easiest way to get them. But something in the back of his mind was screaming at him, telling him to kill the male, that answers would be found elsewhere. The Sundowner _deserved_ it. _Deserved death_ for harming his mate.

“Garrus!”

A black taloned hand slid the pistol under the grey and red jaw, prepared to finish him off with a single shot. The officer in him cried _no_ , while the vigilante roared _do it_!

**“Advisor Vakarian!”**

The sharp snap of his superior’s voice pulled Garrus out of his own head. He didn’t look up, refusing to take his eyes off the enemy, but the pistol backed off and was pointed in a safe direction at the alley wall.

The sound of even footsteps began and got closer until he could see the familiar colours of his mate’s suit in his peripheral vision. Adrien knelt down at his side, hands out in front of him, placating. He said nothing, only waited. It was just like when they’d been in the kitchen all those months ago, with the butcher knife.

Only this time? The danger was real.

The wail of sirens got closer and a single set of footsteps could be heard loping towards them. The gait somewhat familiar to the sniper, but he was unable to immediately place it. Moving fast Garrus stood up, pulled Adrien to his feet and shoved him behind his back. Covering his mate with his own body as he faced the entryway. The heavily modified pistol at the ready and a low thrum emanated from his chest in warning.

“Victus? Vakarian?” a voice called out from the mouth of the alley. It was Freet.

A warm hand closed over Garrus’ left shoulder as his mate released a breath. “We’re here,” the Primarch called out as he dropped his crest to the slightly short male’s cowl. Garrus could feel the tension in his mate easing a little as his own growl dropped off in recognition.

The caretaker stepped into the opening with care, a pistol drawn and held tightly between his taloned hands. He took a moment to look between the four turians in the alley before lowering his weapon. “You two alright?” he asked, sub vocals humming concern as he took in the state of his tenants. Trying at a smile, the elderly male continued. “Bit more commotion than I’d expected this afternoon.”

Garrus finally lowered his own weapon, keeping the safety off. Not that he didn’t trust the older turian, but ‘ _better safe than sorry_ ’ as Butler would have told him. The flash of Omega made the once-vigilante's breath hitch, his back visibly tighten under his loose sweater.

“That’s putting it lightly,” Adrien replied to his old subordinate as he took a pace forwards to stand even with his mate.

Freet nodded to his old Captain before catching Garrus’ own eyes. “Right well, the five out here are gone to the Spirits. You check these two yet?”

A light shake of his head preceded the Security Advisor’s words. “Far one took a round to the face, but should check him. This one-” he tapped his bare foot into the Sundowner’s waist, “-is still alive… for now.”

Garrus watched on as his mate moved to the green-painted turian’s side, checking for vitals even though his visor already told him the male was dead. The space allowed him to take a breath and shake off some of the anxiety and excess of adrenaline. A dull ache starting to pull at his injured shoulder.

The sound of sirens came closer as the flash of orange lights reflected into the alley from the main street. Eight pairs of boots hit the ground outside and Garrus moved to cover Adrien again, just in case they weren’t friendlies. Paranoia had kept him alive a long time on Omega, he wasn’t about to be so trusting that he let someone take them out due to inattention. Not when everything was going so well for him and his mate.

“Stay behind me,” he snapped when the elder male attempted to move around him.

“Garrus-”

“No.”

Adrien did as requested and stayed half hidden behind him. There was nowhere to go, the alleyway a dead end and nothing to take cover behind save a few small, flimsy looking crates.

A loudspeaker from the patrol vehicles boomed out orders, Freet looked between the two other males and offered to confirm the friendlies. At their ok, he put his back to the wall and peeked out. He seemed pleased with what he saw, and nodded to the others before letting his pistol drop to hang off his thumb and step out into the open.

Garrus watched as the command to get on his knees came, and the caretaker was secured by a turian security officer who was armed and armored to the teeth, full combat gear in blue and white. Freet moved willingly, explaining the situation with the easy precision of a lifelong soldier.

Two additional armored forms appeared at the first officer’s side, assault rifles raised as they moved together down the alleyway.

“Identify!” Garrus shouted towards them.

Neither flinched, but the first soldier did reply in kind. She spouted off her identification number for him. The automatic response let the sniper relax a little as he brought the muzzle of his pistol down, pointing it at her feet instead of her head.

At the stand down both of the officers lowered their weapons as well. The shorter armored figure moved to secure the downed mercenary while the female pulled up the visor of her helmet, her clean white markings telling of a Palaven upbringing.

“Primarch Victus, Advisor Vakarian. I am Lieutenant Pex of the 21st Cipritine Regiment. The area has been secured,” her clear voice explained as she holstered the rifle on her back and stepped towards them, her violet eyes tracing the dark stain on Garrus’ sweater. “Medical services are on the way sirs.”

“Thank you Lieutenant,” the elder male replied as he stepped up beside his partner again. “Give us a moment, would you?”

“Sir.” The blue and white clad female nodded to them and turned on heel, heading back towards the entrance to the alley to begin barking orders at the other soldiers.

As soon as they were relatively alone, Garrus felt Adrien’s hand slide down his left arm to remove the pistol from his talons before he attached it to his own hip. “It’s over,” he hummed quietly, lingering closer than strictly necessary. The tone of his voice was soft, calming. It helped stow Archangel back inside the shadows of his mind.

Garrus turned towards him, still cognizant of the other turians present, but allowing his guard to drop a talon width. “Did they hurt you?” he asked, eyes searching for blood and only finding it on his partner’s palm and along the ridge of his faceplate, under his eye. The too sharp blade that Adrien had wielded lay forgotten behind them, stained blue.

“That’s what I should be asking you,” the slate male replied with a voice just as quiet while he allowed Garrus to run a black taloned hand across his blood stained cheek.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding,” Adrien told him as he herded his mate backwards towards the crates and had him sit down. “You’ve been shot love, twice.”

The ex-soldier let out a huffed breath of amusement, but allowed the older male to prod at him. “You say that like it’s never happened before.” Adrien didn’t retort, only made an unamused sub harmonic noise to admonish his partner. “Really, it’s just a graze.” He went to raise his right arm to push his mate off, but for some reason it didn’t work. He glanced down at the limb and tried again, the muscles around his elbow twitched and that was all.

The unamused hum cut off, changing to concern. “Garrus? What is it?”

A pale grey crest tilted to the side in confusion. “I… I don’t know.”

Adrien took his hand, gently wrapping black talons around his own. “Squeeze my hand,” he looked up to Garrus’ face, golden eyes misted with concern.

The sniper shook his head after a moment. “Can’t. Can’t feel your hand either. I… I think that second shot might’ve hit my implant.”

Using his talons Adrien cut away the blood sodden tunic covering the injured shoulder. Mandibles pulled tightly against his dark grey jaw as he looked over the damage. “I think you’re right… it’s bleeding fairly substantially and the hardware’s been exposed.”

The younger male tilted his head to attempt to assess his own shoulder, but all he could see was the sickly blue colour of his own blood. He glanced back up at his partner, Adrien was looking around for something and his words pulled the elder’s attention back to him. “Shouldn’t touch it. Might… ow… fuck it up more.” Now that the adrenaline was wearing off and he calmed, the dull ache was coming to the forefront. Getting worse as time went on.

“We need to stop the bleeding.” Adrien told him quickly, seeing as the paramedics had arrived and were headed their way he took a half pace back and dropped the familial concern from his second voice.

Garrus shook his head. “I’ll call Tiran, just hold them off for a minute?”

He could see the argument behind his mate’s eyes, but after a moment the dark grey turian nodded and complied with the request. Intercepting the medical staff to give him a moment to talk to his sister’s potential mate. He sent the emergency ping and waited about twenty seconds before the chat connected.

_{Emergency Connection Request Sent - Live Chat Open}_

_G: Need you to meet me at ER_

_T: What happened?_

_T: OMW._

_G: Problem with my implant._

_T: That’s vague. Clarify if able?_

Garrus considered for a moment before deciding on a reply. Honesty without a real explanation would have to do for the short term. He glanced up from pecking, singled handed, at his omnitool. Adrien and the paramedics were coming towards him with a stretcher. His ice-blue eyes narrowed at his mate. Blatant refusal in his glare as he continued with his message.

_G: It’s destroyed. Long story. Short version, got shot._

_T: WHAT!_

_G: Parts are exposed. Bleeding heavily. Need to know if I should get pressure on it?_

_G: Don’t want to make it worse._

“Advisor Vakarian, you need to let us treat your shoulder.” The first medic said as she approached, tone placating and kind. Her gloved hands out in front of her as her partner ran a scanner over him.

He looked up, eying the two newcomers first before glancing towards his mate. Adrien was watching him closely, his darker gaze intensely worried.

Shaking his head, Garrus pushed down the pain and forced out a concise order. “I need you to take me to Mnemosyne Memorial, no one touches my arm until my specialist replies.” He forced himself up from the crate, a wave of dizziness flooding his senses. The sniper had to fight down the urge to throw up as Adrien rushed in and took his good arm to steady him.

“Sir, you need to lay down…” the paramedic lead attempted to usher him towards the stretcher.

“No,” he snapped, despite his vision blurring and requiring him to squeeze his eyes shut a moment to steady himself.

“Sir…”

“I said, _no_.” Garrus wasn’t having it. So Adrien waved them off, helping him into the back of the ambulance on foot instead.

Once the injured turian was able to see again he scanned the alley, his eyes caught on two spilled takeaway cups and a waterlogged bag from the cafe Adrien liked. Garrus’ expression fell and he grasped a little tighter to his mate. A questioning tone released from his chest, just loud enough for the older male to hear.

“Later,” Adrien told him in a whisper as they stepped into the waiting emergency vehicle and he sat him down on the waiting bed while the paramedic stowed the stretcher. “I won’t let them touch your shoulder but you have to lay down, alright?”

He nodded reluctantly, complying as the next wave of dizziness hit him and his arm twitched in phantom pain. His mate took his good arm, moving the haptic interface so he could see it and return the doctor’s messages.

_T: Don’t touch it. Show me the injury._

_{Video chat requested - Accept?Y/N}_

_T: Where are you? Is anyone with you?_

_T: Garrus?_

_T: Spirits, you can’t just say that then stop messaging!_

_G: This is Adrien. With Garrus, just got into the ambulance._

_T: Ok. That’s good. Here…_

_{Video chat requested - Accept?Y/N}_

Tiran’s face came onto the screen, he looked to be making his way through the halls of the hospital, and once he noticed that the line connected he stopped and pressed himself against a nearby wall to steady the camera. _“What happened?”_ he asked again, voice sounding distressed.

Adrien forced the call onto his own omnitool and sat back to allow the female medic access to Garrus, despite his protest. “I was attacked, Advisor Vakarian fought off the attackers and was injured. It appears that his cybernetic implant was badly damaged. We are enroute to you now. What do you need?’

_“Vitals. Tell the paramedic not to touch the implant and get me eyes on it.”_

“I can hear you just fine Doctor,” the lead replied as she ran the medical scanner over her patient again while the other turian closed up the doors and headed for the driver’s seat. She began spewing numbers that Garrus couldn’t make much sense of and Adrien loomed over his injured side with the camera of his omnitool.

The ex-C-Sec Officer could hear the three of them going back and forth, arguing for a moment before he couldn’t hold the nausea back any longer and he sat up, hurriedly looking for something to throw up into. Thankfully the paramedic foresaw his need and had a bin ready which she thrust into his hands just in time.

Garrus felt Adrien’s hand on his back as he retched and heard the distressed hum of his partner’s sub vocals. Any semblance of hiding their relation was gone.

 _“It’s nerve pain,”_ Tiran told them from the other side of the camera as the medic took away the pan, as though that explained why he’d vomited. The medic seemed to grasp the reasoning at least as she nodded and hummed an understanding tone. _“Get him on oxygen, fluids and give a unit of anti-nausea medication. Nothing else. Don’t touch the injury. I’m getting an OR prepped now.”_

“Yessir!” she replied to his orders and moved through the familiar motions of attaching a nasal-oxygenation tube and inserting an IV into the veins of his good arm.

His mate’s voice was uneasy as he replied to the doctor. “What are you going to do?”

“ _I’ll need to assess the damage when you get here, but by the looks of it the current implant is destroyed. Best case? I remove the damaged sections and replace them. Worst case we have to implant the amp that the other Doctor Melandra and I have been designing or risk losing function.”_

Garrus coughed to clear his throat of the residual bile before speaking. “Need my arm. Do… do what you need to Doctor.”

The Advisor knew what he was consenting to. He was going to let the pair of Melandra doctors cut into his brain stem to install a new cybernetic hub, one that would give him full functionality and control of his arm so that he’d be able to feel and move as he was supposed to. Modelled after a turian biotic amp, the technology was cutting edge. Untested.

“ _You’re sure?_ ”

His good hand twitched, wanting to clutch at his shoulder as the dull ache turned into a fiery burn. Ice-blue eyes closed again as Garrus pushed down a pained groan.

“Yes, I consent.”

Adrien’s talons curled around his fingers, holding onto them tightly. “I don’t care about your arm, love. I care about you.” The elder male’s free hand took hold of his light grey cheek, pressing their crests together for a moment. The medic’s presence forgotten. “That’s emergency brain surgery he’s talking about… If it’s too risky…”

“No,” he snapped, pulling away and holding tense golden eyes captive with his own glassy-blue ones. “I need my arm. I won’t leave you mated to a cripple.”

“Stop-”

“Damn it Adrien, I need to be able to protect you!”

The ambulance went silent. Nothing could be heard save background noise from the other end of the com line and the muted sound of the siren blaring as they rushed towards the hospital. Adrien’s gaze held Garrus’ for a moment longer before dropping to the sluggish stream of blood flowing from his shoulder.

“Alright.”

“ _We’ll be ready when you get here,”_ Tiran said from the other end of the comm line. “ _Call me if anything changes.”_ The screen flashed with the disconnect screen before flickering off.

_{Vid-call disconnected. User Melandra offline.}_

For the next few minutes silence reigned. The paramedic went back to the tasks that the doctor had given her, while the two males stared one another down. She worked around them efficiently in the small space, evidently used to having to deal with panicked loved ones while she worked. It wasn’t until the hum of the engines changed that either of them moved, they were approaching destination and the siren cut off.

Adrien squeezed his hand tighter as they came to a stop. “I won’t lose you, Garrus.”

“You won’t,” he tried to assure his mate as he leaned towards him, stopping a few centimeters away from his crest just as the elder male had done to him so many times before. “I trust him.”

The relief he felt when Adrien’s crest touched his own was palatable.

They remained together until a polite _ahem_ came from behind them. “We’re landing sirs, Primarch Victus you can stay with him until they reach the operating room. I can escort you to the waiting area from there.”

The dark crest left his own, eyes the colour of a lightning storm fixed on ice blue for a moment longer before he turned and nodded to the paramedic. “By your lead,” he told her, moving to the side without letting go of his mate’s hand.

Engines cut off as the ambulance came to a stop. No sooner did they touch down did the doors swing open to reveal a team of doctors, the familiar midnight tones of Voss among them.

“Primarch, Advisor,” she greeted in a formal, all business tone. Any hint of snarkiness from their earlier appointments gone completely. The team surrounded them and without preamble she hopped onto the stretcher on Garrus’ injured side in the seconds before they began to move. “Melandra filled me in, I need to make an assessment of the degradation before the surgery. Raise your arm.”

Garrus attempted, but again the muscles in his elbow twitched and that was it. Voss’ jade-green eyes watched his arm intensely, unphased by the lack of movement.

“Grip my hand,” she ordered as she took his talons in her own gloved ones.

“Can’t.”

She hummed an understanding note before taking her free hand and pressing it into the bullet wound, doing… _something…_ and whatever it was did not feel pleasant. The sniper stifled a screech as best he could, teeth clenching down hard enough to bleed his gums.

Adrien yelled something as they ran but he couldn’t make it out over the sound of blood pounding in his ears. Voss snapped back at his mate and kept on manipulating his shoulder. Garrus’ vision greyed at the edges and another wave of nausea hit him hard. A mantra of _don’t puke_ started in his head as he forced the feeling back, there were too many people, too many lights.

Voss’ hand left him and the world brightened back up, he gasped for breath as though he’d been held underwater for too long. The fuzziness faded enough for him to notice Adrien’s crest against his own as they slowed to a stop.

“I’ll be right here when you wake up,” his mate told him as he forced down trembling sub vocals. “Come back to me my love.”

Garrus kept hold for as long as he could, talons touching until they finally slid out of his mate’s fingers.

He was awake long enough to see Tiran decked out in full surgical garb, a mask hanging from one of his elongated mandibles. A reassuring expression on his face as he spoke, “We’ll do whatever we can, brother.” His gloved hand squeezed Garrus’ good shoulder as the cold wet feeling of a sedative worked its way through his system.

The room grew fuzzy around him and the pain faded into nothingness. He was unconscious before the doctors moved him from the stretcher to the surgical table and they set to work.

+-+-+-

Adrien paced back and forth across the small waiting room, not a soul had attempted to speak with him since they’d taken his mate away a quarter hour prior. The paramedic had done as promised and delivered him to the waiting room before disappearing to her duties. He’d refused her offer of treatment for his cut hand, expecting his extensive soldier’s augmentations to take care of the bleed.

The pain helped him think.

It only took the overly tall turian eight steps to make it from one end to the other, his hum of discontent kept anyone who was curious a fair distance away from him. When he’d originally been shown into the rectangular, yellow walled room there had been two others sitting and chatting with one another. They had disappeared within five minutes, supposedly to get kava, but hadn’t returned.

_*PING*_

A noise from his wrist stopped the incessant need to keep moving and he pulled up his omnitool, seeing a line of messages had piled up. The most recent of which had only made a sound because it was flagged as a priority chat line. It was Castis.

_{Emergency Connection Request Accepted - Live Chat Open}_

_C: Adrien, tell me what’s going on. There was word of an attack, neither you nor Garrus are responding to my hails. I managed to find out that you were both transported to Mnemosyne, Solana is on her way there now. She can’t raise Tiran._

_A: There was. Garrus is in surgery. Tiran’s operating on him._

_C: Spirits._

_C: What about you? Are you safe?_

_A: I’m fine._

_A: It’ll be a few hours at least. I’ll message Solana with my location. Nothing to do but wait._

_C: Who was the reporting officer on scene? I’ll see what information I can gather in the interim. Anything you can tell me about the attacker?_

_A: Lieutenant Pex, 21st Cipritine. There were seven assailants, six deceased, proclaimed themselves Separatists from Digeris, one with Sundowner markings. Outside my apartment, scene secured._

_C: Understood. I’ll be there when I can._

_{Chat disconnected. User Victus offline.}_

Adrien saw the dismissal for what it was and closed out his omnitool without replying. He sat heavily in one of the uncomfortable waiting room chairs, dropping his face into his hands for a moment to steady himself. He’d forgotten there would be others waiting for information, too preoccupied with his own thoughts to reach out.

A long sigh left him as he straightened, and pulled up the messaging program once again. This time scanning the queue for anything that he’d need to respond to immediately. Solana had messaged him that she was enroute, estimating arrival ten minutes from when she sent the message so he replied to that one first, telling her the room number that she’d find him in.

The next one he took was from his Vice-Primarch, and friend, Trebax Corinthus. The two of them had worked closely together for years, promoted to Captain around the same time back in 2170 before the last Sundowner uprising. His message was short; _Sitrep._ And it made the dark-grey turian almost smile, the clean military familiarity helped to settle him.

His reply was responded to almost immediately. Corinthus was sending him a Watcher. Heavy mandibles pulled tightly against his slate coloured cheeks as he glared at the words. Logically the General in him understood the need, but ethically he objected. Adrien wasn’t one to allow another to die for him.

He was _turian_.

Fighting alongside his troops had been his life. Not hiding behind them.

“Adrien?” A voice from the door caught his attention and he snapped to to see his bonded sister standing in the doorway, an extremely concerned look on her face.

“Sol…” the Primarch pushed himself partway up before she crossed the space and forced him back down. Her eyes intense on his own. “Wha-”

“You’re bleeding,” she cut him off and moved to the door again. Her voice sharp. “Stay there.”

The tall female disappeared for a moment before returning, a blue medical kit in her hands. This hospital, like all other suited to multiple species, had colour coded emergency packages spread throughout each floor. The turian ones blue, asari purple, human red and so forth. She put the bag down on the chair beside him and fished out what she needed. Without preamble the blackwatch agent began to clean the blood from his face.

“Hold still,” Solana ordered when he fidgeted underneath her talons.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he told her and held up his sluggishly bleeding palm as if it were proof enough that he was fine.

Her scoff told him otherwise. “Just as bad as Garrus,” she mumbled under her breath as she smoothed a medigel covered adhesive bandage across his cheek. The blade had been sharp enough to cut through his thick faceplate as though it were liquid instead of solid. “Give me your hand.”

The darker grey turian relinquished his palm to her and waited while she gave it the same precise treatment as his face, although here she added a few superficial stitches to ensure the cut healed straight and without a scar _._

“There. Now start at the beginning, explain what happened, if you’d like I can record it for dad so that he doesn’t ask you all the same questions?”

The Primarch’s eyes shut for a moment, he took in a deep calming breath before refocusing on his bonded sister. “It’s fine, no recording.” From there he lapsed into a brief synopsis of his departure from the office, stop in at the café, and the subsequent confrontation. “The assailant held me at gunpoint and shot the turian I used as a shield, then Garrus appeared out of nowhere and tackled him to the ground. The Sundowner was knocked out and I stopped your brother from killing him.”

“What?” she asked when he paused, a confused tilt to her crest.

“We need information. I do not believe that they were acting alone.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Solana’s sub vocals hummed in consideration a moment before she rephrased her question. “What do you mean you needed to stop him? That doesn’t sound like Garrus.”

Adrien sighed. “That’s a topic for another day.” She made a noncommittal hum which he took to mean continue, so he cleared his throat and began again. “My building manager entered the alleyway- what’s funny?”

The pale plated female swallowed her amusement. “Sorry, your building manager?”

“His name is Freet,” Adrien explained whilst giving her a half smile for the effort. “He served under me when I received my first command, career soldier and a good turian.” Solana nodded and he kept on. “Security arrived on scene shortly thereafter along with an emergency medical transport, which brought us here.”

“That doesn’t explain why Garrus is in surgery,” the Blackwatch agent told him, her sub vocals held tight as only years of practice could accomplish.

The Primarch nodded, mulling over the events and realising that he hadn’t even known Garrus had been shot until a fair number of minutes later. It wasn’t until security arrived that he saw the blood. “I didn’t see what happened, in the aftermath I realised he’d been shot twice, in the right arm and shoulder. The second shot hit the cybernetic nexus embedded there. What Tiran and Voss were planning to remove in a month or so and replace with the new tech.”

Delicate mandibles pinched tight against Solana’s cheeks. “That’s… not ideal.”

“No.”

The two of them sat in silence for a moment. Sol still hadn’t let go of Adrien’s hand, and now that he’d finished his explanation she held it tighter. The pressure wasn’t comfortable, but the elder turian didn’t want it to be. He’d gotten off with a few scrapes while Garrus was injured again. In surgery again.

And this time? It was all his fault.

+-+-+-

Casits had been having an excellent day; his ride into Cipritine had been smooth, the weather pleasant, his meetings went according to plan and ran on schedule. He and his son were getting along famously, working side-by-side on a daily basis as they intersected on numerous affairs relating to Hierarchy internal and external security.

Where Garrus was more focused on the external issues, those tasks that required interacting with the other species, he worked more on internal security within the Hierarchy. The biggest thorn in his side was the Separatist movement and today had been a victory over them with Digeris agreeing to sign Hierarchy treaties.

However, the victory was short lived. His day now in shambles. Not only had there been an attempt on the Primarch’s life, but his bonded-son’s as well. The duality of his anger over it was stifling as he stood in the conference room waiting on Vice-Primarch Corinthus.

The room was the same bland grey that seemed common to all conference rooms, a large, bar-height table sat in the room’s centre with enough space surrounding it for twenty to stand comfortably, or sit on stools that were tucked underneath it. One wall held a bank of dimmable windows, the other a large touchscreen and presentation space.

Said screens were currently full of any and all information Castis had relating to the assassination attempt. The faces of the seven attackers took up the left side with all the information they had on them, the right had maps and additional data, and in the centre the Security Chief watched on as the news feed scrolled by with grainy surveillance video of the attack.

When the door opened, his steel-blue eyes snapped to the door. “Vice-Primarch, I managed to get a hold of Primarch Victus,” he began without preamble. “I’ve sent my daughter to his location.”

“Mhm…” Corinthus hummed, taking a few strides forwards to stand beside him at the table. “He replied to my messages as well. I’ve sent word to Blackwatch, they’ll be getting Watchers for both him and Advisor Vakarian but in the meantime Agent Vakarian will be sufficient.”

Castis released a breath, half amused. “Too many Vakarians for you, Trebax?”

“Quite,” he agreed with a grin before getting back to business. “What can you tell me so far about the attack?”

Rounding the table, the Vakarian clan leader stood beside the data he’d compiled. Walking his superior through the information as he would have Adrien, had he been the one here. The other turian asked him questions as he went on, stopping when needed to go into detail before skipping ahead.

“The attacker in custody is a known entity, Naqutus Beltheer of Solregit’s Southern continent. He was a low-level target in the Sundowner Uprising of 2171. Nothing more than a foot soldier at the time. Likely still expendable if he was used in such a blatant attempt on the Primarch’s life, publicity in event of failure.”

Corinthus considered a moment, he’d long since sat down on a stool and spread out a few datapads around him to refer to as Castis spoke. “You’re probably right on that count, I remember the faces of the high and mid-level soldiers that we didn’t remove. Every last one of them…” his voice held an edge of malice and Vakarian just nodded to him, understanding that the uprising was the ex-general’s first command battle and it still ran fresh in the male’s mind.

“Security managed to obtain all of the footage of the incident from the alleyway. They appear to have missed one camera, it was 100 metres down the street so the media has poor quality footage of the initial confrontation, Advisor Vakarian’s arrival, and the arrival and departure of the emergency response staff.”

He played the clip over again and he watched on as Adrien walked into the zoomed in frame, a bag and takeaway cups in his hands, which are shoved to the ground by the first attacker. The Primarch is pushed into the alley, the male following closely behind him, and then the two of them are out of frame. Castis speeds through the next, agonizingly slow, ninety-seven seconds of the video until he notices movement at the edge of the frame. Resuming normal speed on the recording, his eyes scan the six turians in plain clothes that have jogged into the frame, making it seven total attackers as his bonded-son had mentioned in his message.

Thirty seconds of yelling, that the recording hadn’t picked up, go on before anything happens. Without warning, two of the mercenaries fall, the rest scatter, a third falls, the remaining three split up. There’s nothing for a few moments until he sees his son, pistol drawn and wearing civilian clothes, not even boots on his feet.

The ex-top C-Sec Investigator’s over-imaginative mind fills in the gaps for him. Garrus would have been at home preparing for his mate’s arrival. His son had said something about making _vret_ for dinner before he left the office in a good mood. He’d finally gotten used to leaving when his hours were up, actually had started listening to Doctor Mephran’s orders without he or Solana enforcing them so strictly.

Castis could feel a lump building in his throat, all of the _what if’s_ of the day flooding his head. _What if_ Garrus had still been at work? _What if_ the first attacker had just shot Adrien where he stood? _What if_ they’d left the office together, unarmed? _What if, what if,_ **_what if_ ** **?**

A hand closed over his shoulder and the light grey male flinched. Turning his head towards the only other turian in the room he let out a sigh and ran his gloved hands over his fringe.

“That’s not like you, Castis. Are you alright?” Trebax’s sub vocals hummed concern at him.

“Fine.”

Corinthus’ head tilted to the side and he tightened his grip on Castis’ shoulder. “Different when you’re watching your own family, not random victims.”

He scoffed, head bobbing in half agreement. “We are turian, it shouldn’t be.”

The Vice-Primarch’s brow rose, and he chuckled under his breath. “If only it were that easy.” He let go of the Security Chief’s shoulder and moved back to lean against the table. His arms crossed over his keel as his eyes watched the screen. “Garrus was walking when they left,” he pointed to the screen where Adrien was helping his mate to the ambulance. “That’s got to be a good sign.”

Vakarian’s crest shook once, from left to right in a sharp negative movement.

“Did Adrien tell you what the surgery was?” he asked.

The ex-general hummed a negative tone. “No. Just that it was going to take some time. I assumed it was just plate work…”

Castis’ mandibles pinched into his cheeks as he shook his head again, slower this time. “He said it was Tiran Melandra operating.”

Trebax’s tones grew more concerned. “Isn’t that the neurosurgeon your daughter is seeing?”

“The same.”

“Spirits...”

“Garrus was supposed to have surgery done to repair his cybernetics in a few more weeks. Some experimental tech installed in lieu of the old implant. I fear that time may have come too early.” The father took a deep steadying breath and shut off the recording. He didn’t turn towards Corinthus when he continued. “I’ll find who did this.”

“I’m with you.”

+-+-+-+-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That isn't too much of a cliff hanger, is it? 
> 
> Character notes: Just in case it wasn't clear earlier, Tiran Melandra is a Neurosurgeon specializing in turian biotic implants. His backstory is enormous by virtue of some extremely in depth character discovery work. But for a quick overview... he spent his Hierarchy years both in medical school and working with Cabal units, he's qualified for work on both Asari and Turians. After leaving the Hierarchy Military at 30 he moved to the Citadel and worked at Huerta Memorial Hospital, both as a neurosurgeon and as a Spectre Medical consultant. After the Battle of the Citadel/Geth attack in 2183 he returned to Palaven to be with his family for a handful of reasons, including the birth of his nephew Eaish.


	25. Progression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrus' surgery and everything else that happens concurrently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all, here's this week's update!
> 
> Thanks to:  
> [ **Spicy_Gnome**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Spicy_Gnome/pseuds/Spicy_Gnome) For the beta work!
> 
> Notes:  
> I’ll mainly be using the Colony names instead of actual names for the Cluster Primarchs since not all of them have a canon name and giving a whole new set of characters names is likely to be more confusing than it’s worth. 
> 
> To jog your memory the Clusters are:  
> Baetika, Edessan, Epyrus, Gothis (Digeris is included in this cluster), Invictus, Macedyn, Oma Ker, Pulan, Quadim, Silona, Solregit, and Taetrus
> 
> Music at the start of the chapter: [**Glider by Tycho**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yg_rZhpMuWA)

 

Soothing tones flowed around Tiran as he worked, piped in through the overhead speakers to break the otherwise absolute silence of the operating room. The moderate tempo of the quarian instrumental piece was easy to work alongside, it bobbed and weaved along without words to focus on. Synthesizers and a keyed instrument carried alongside the occasional percussive movement to keep the pace fresh and engaging.

His right foot rocked against the sanitary metal floors along with the beat as it went on, from toe talons to heel. Two of the talons of his right hand were equipped with talon tip scalpels, the precise instrument used as an extension of a turian’s own hand for delicate work such as this. His left hand danced between the equipment cart beside him and the table, dabbing away blood or providing irrigation to the wounded shoulder he was working on.

It was solitary, engaging work.

Below the orangey-glow of the medical visor on his face, the doctor’s piercing green eyes were intent on the pieces of shrapnel that had once been his patient’s cybernetic control hub. His mind was shut off from the outside world, the only thing that mattered right now was the male on the surgical table before him. The complex surgery made worse by circumstance.

Any reminders of who the turian on the table was were banished from the surgeon’s thoughts. The music helping him to focus intently on what he was doing as he went through the familiar workflow of shrapnel removal, one that he’d gotten well practiced with during the war.

Or… they were until the song changed and his sister opened her mouth.

“Tiran?”

“Hm?” he hummed through a mild cough in reply without looking up from the delicate procedure. A small clank broke the silence as he dropped another piece of metal into the waiting oblong tray.

“Do we have to listen to your music?”

Bright green eyes flicked upwards through the orange holographic display to the darker jade pair watching him. “Yes.” The Cybernetics specialist grumbled but said nothing, so he continued. “When it’s your OR, you can choose the music.”

“Fine…” the midnight-toned turian sighed in the over exaggerated way that she’d always done. The sarcastic, almost endearing way that one could only get away with, with clan.

An asari piece came on next, all strings. A melody that was likely millennia old, rewritten a hundred times over and refined through tens of hands. The calm wandering pace was easy to get lost in. Only broken by clinks of metal on metal, the rasp of a plate cutter, the occasional flutter of fabric as he or Voss adjusted themselves to get a better angle.

The lighting throughout the operating room was dim, save the brighter adjustable work lights directed at their respective work areas. The sibling pair was alone in the theater, though both were aware of not only the video recordings their visors were making, but the many sets of eyes in the overhead viewing gallery. If this surgery worked, it would be revolutionary.

Tiran’s sister was working on the finishing touches to the modified biotic amp that he was going to be installing into his patient’s brain stem. The technology was one that had, before now, only been theorized to work. Their plan was to use the combination of their medical excellence to put it into practice. Implantation of a cybernetic nexus directly into the brain stem, which in turn would allow the receiver control over their nervous system. 

A successful surgery today would mark one of the biggest medical advances to be made in turian medicine in decades. They would be able to adapt the technology for use on paraplegic patients and those with partial paralysis. Giving the sufferers the ability to control their nervous system and be able to move freely again. To walk. To hug their loved ones.

Odds were against them, but Tiran was positive that this could work. He’d been studying and researching the tech for years in his spare time with Voss. The two of them had always gotten along in work if not interpersonally. 

The song ended, and with it did the removal of the destroyed cybernetic hub. The younger Doctor Melandra pulled back, rolling his shoulders out and looking to the ceiling for a moment while he stretched his neck and suppressed a coughing fit. It had already been a solid two hours of work, and there wasn’t an end in sight. 

Removing the talon scalpels, he picked up a pair of tissue forceps and brought the fresh nerve grafts within easier reach. The next task was to repair the nerve sections where the hub had been removed. Without the new system, his patient might eventually regain some feeling in his finger tips, but he’d never have perfect motor control back. And that had been the reasoning for the ingenious, though admittedly primitive, system that his old doctor had installed.

His patient was a soldier, he needed his shooting arm. It wasn’t negotiable then, and it wasn’t negotiable now.

“You know…” Voss began, breaking Tiran’s focus just before he began placing the first graft, humming in unveiled appreciation. “He’s a lot better looking now.”

Tiran growled at her, without looking up. “Not the time.”

“What? I’m not allowed to recognize his… hm...  _ improvement _ ?” her sub vocals thrummed with an attracted and pleased tone that made his stomach roil. 

The charcoal plated male knew the exact expression that was on his sister’s face without meeting her eyes. It was the smug, pretty one that she used when looking at a particularly nice set of fringe clips or medical tool she wanted for her office. The one that usually got her exactly what she wanted from potential suitors. 

“Will you stop?” the surgeon snapped once he’d settled the piece he was working on and could pause long enough to break his focus. 

“So overprotective, Ranny.” Voss giggled behind her own mask, light and airy, almost as though they were a pair of siblings bickering over a toy and not a pair of highly specialized surgeons talon deep in a complex operation.

He let out a gruff rumble of displeasure and took a deep breath to resettle himself. There was a reason the dark plated male didn’t like operating with his sister, though brilliant, she’d always been flippant. When working together on research papers he could take a break, here that wasn’t an option.

“Stop ogling my patient and get back to work.”

“ _ Fine _ ...” Voss huffed, but she did indeed return to her workspace and resumed her duties. Even though she seemed to be without a professional demeanor most of the time, Voss Melandra was  _ excellent  _ at what she did. Why she couldn’t be nice at the same time, Tiran didn’t know.

The neurosurgeon was only able to hope their combined efforts would be enough for success. It wasn’t just any patient lying prone on their keel before him, bare of plates and split open from shoulder to fringe, but the turian war hero who saved the Galaxy from the Reapers.

The turian he’d come to think of as not only a friend, but a brother.

A new song came on, a melancholy human peice so sad that he took the time to change the music. Voss glanced up at him from her work, a question in her jade eyes that Tiran didn’t want to deal with. For once though, she seemed to understand. Her midnight-black crest nodded a single time and she went back to work. As did he.

+-+-+-+

Nanus was just beginning to rise for the night when the silent pair of turians dozed off. It had been a painful, slow grind as they waited for information on Garrus’ condition. A nurse popped by about two hours after Solana arrived to let them know things were going well, the old cybernetics had been successfully removed. That had been their only contact thus far.

In the long hours of waiting, a pair of turian Blackwatch agents had appeared at the door to the yellow walled room. Neither of whom Solana knew personally, but their credentials checked out, so she left them be. Partway through the night they had swapped out for a different pairing, the new ones bringing food that neither she nor Adrien touched. 

It was a stressful wait and the kava tasted of ash in her mouth.

Solana hadn’t been asleep more than an hour when she woke to the sound of the door opening. Instinct made her snap awake in a half second, her hand grazing the hidden sidearm at her hip as she scoped out the dimly lit waiting room. Recognition came to her sky-blue eyes in the next moment, it was Voss.

“I have news,” the doctor told her, a soft tired expression on her mandibles that didn’t fit the female’s usually inexpressive face.

As the willowy turian stood, she disturbed the exhausted male beside her. Adrien came awake just as fast as she had, though he didn’t stand. Instead he leaned forwards with elbows on his knees, waiting for the newcomer to continue. Bandaged hand sliding along the curve of his fringe as though he had a headache. She didn’t blame him.

Voss glanced between them as she leaned against the doorframe. “The surgery was a success, Advisor Vakarian is in the recovery unit now. We won’t know the extent of his functionality until he wakes up, but you can see him now if you wish.”

Sol could feel the tension drop from her mated-brother as a rush of air left his lungs. She placed a warm taloned hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently to give him reassurance as she replied to the midnight-toned female.

“Thank you, Doctor. Would you summarize what you did? We weren’t well informed.”

White-painted mandibles pulled into the female’s artificially perfect jawline as she considered the request. Deciding after a moment what she wanted to do, she stepped into the room and allowed the door to close behind herself. “Beyond removal and installation of the cybernetics that we’d discussed previously, the other Doctor Melandra fitted Advisor Vakarian with nerve grafts that should provide him with sensation in his hand over time, regardless of how well the new system takes to his nervous system.

“The cosmetic plate replacement was also accomplished, so you’ll see more bandages than just the ones you’d expect over his shoulder and neck.” Green eyes shifted between the pair, resting on the Primarch a moment before trailing back to Solana. “The work was more extensive than initially expected due to the injury… there is a possibility that it won’t have worked. As discussed it was a highly experimental procedure-”

“We understand,” the Blackwatch agent cut her off, nodding in understanding. A resonant hopeful hum sounding from her chest as she looked down at her brother and spoke for him, “Take us there.”

“Very well,” her black crest nodded to them once before Voss turned on heel and led the pair from the room.

Adrien was slow to rise, too caught up in his own head to focus much on where they were headed or the pair of watchers that followed behind them. The Vakarian scion didn’t like seeing him like this. It felt unnatural. Like he didn’t belong. From the foggy appearance of his eyes, to the underlying worried timbre of his second voice. Nothing about this was right.

The halls were empty as they moved through Mnemosyne Memorial, three sets of footsteps echoed against the sterile white walls and the grey tilted floors in the patient wards. Solana’s too quiet to be heard out of habit, as were one of the other agent’s.

The pale grey turian wanted to reach out a hand to guide her brother along, but out of formality she held back. Silently damning their society’s views on professional versus personal conduct, Solana kept on walking at his side. It took her no time at all to switch from the snarky sister to her serious, professional counterpart, but damn it she wanted to be the sister not the agent right now.

When they crossed into urgent care, the atmosphere changed a bit. Here there was more activity, despite the late -or was it early?- hour. A number of doctors and nurses were at work in the more brightly lit reception area. Sky-blue eyes scanned the room as Voss led them to the front desk. Immediately, Solana recognized the nurse by his gunmetal grey plates. It was Tenn, Alli’s mate.

“Primarch, Doc Melandra, Agents...” the obsidian eyed male greeted the group as they strode in. He stood from behind reception, stowing a datapad before leading them towards the patient rooms. “Advisor Vakarian is resting comfortably, I’ll take you the rest of the way.”

Voss put a hand on Solana’s shoulder to slow her down, the pale plated agent held back and turned to cock her head in question at the shorter female.

“Once you’ve got him settled with your brother,” she began flicking her manicured talons at the Primarch’s back. “Come back out. Tiran needs you.”

“What do you mean?” Solana’s eyes tightened in concern, her mandibles pulling into her cheeks. 

The elder female held up a hand to calm her. “Nothing untoward, he’s just exhausted. Worked a full shift yesterday then spent the last ten hours engaged in surgery. This isn’t the first time he’s worked himself down to sleeping on the OR floor… just… if you can convince him to move to a bed? That’s preferable. They’ll need the room come morning.”

“Yeah. Just… hold on a minute.”

Voss turned away, looking entirely disinterested again. As though the moment of familial kindness was too much for her pedigree. 

Solana’s pace was hurried as she caught up with the group. There was another black and red armored turian standing guard outside Garrus’ glass walled room, who Solana assumed was his own Watcher. Adrien was already inside the airlock where Tenn was showing him which gear he needed to put on to go inside her brother’s patient room. 

As Sol entered the space, she tuned into the conversation. “-normally street clothes would be fine, Primarch. But ah…” the elder male’s black eyes looked to her requesting assistance. 

The Blackwatch agent looked to her friend and flicked her crest towards the door. Asking him without words for a moment. Tenn understood and placed a clean set of scrubs from the shelf onto the single chair in the room before giving Sol a quick rundown. He motioned to the decon cycle, stating that Garrus’ room needed to be entirely sterile and entrants needed gloves and a mask. She hummed agreement as the door closed, and Tenn left them alone. 

“Adrien…” Sol started softly, but her mated-brother didn’t looked at her. Instead he stepped up to the windowed door to look in at her birth-brother. One hand resting against the glass pane.

As Tenn mentioned, it did look like Garrus was resting well. Propped up by a few strategic pillows, he was lying on an incline. His hide was pale in the shadow marred light, not much darker than the bandaging that lead from the top of his throat to the cusp of his shoulder. The grey plates of his chest were smattered with bandages as well, as was his right arm. 

Under his left eye, the visor side, an adhesive bandage ran along the the length of his cheek. From just under the closed lid to his jaw. Thinking back on it, Solana could picture the nasty-looking healed over split that had been there. She wondered why that was one of the scars he’d chosen to have removed. It wasn’t one her brother had ever explained to her. The only story he’d vehemently disagreed with sharing.

After a half minute of silence the pale plated agent stepped up beside the stoic male waiting at the doorway. 

“He’s going to be ok.”

The elder turian’s crest dropped against the cool glass, his eyes closing as he shook his head. Eventually words came, dragged from his throat all too roughly. “That isn’t the point, Sol.”

“The point of what? This isn’t the first time he’s been laid up…”

“It’s my fault,” he whispered, breath fogging the glass. “I refused a Watcher. He’d asked that I take one and I told him no. I didn’t need one. I could handle myself.”

Her lighter voice hummed in concern. “This wasn’t you. You didn’t know that this was going to happen. That you were going to be attacked. Garrus would lay down his life for you in-”

“That’s not the point!” He nearly yelled, slamming his fist against the glass and startling her. “Damn it Solana. He almost died, again, because of me. I can’t... I just can’t keep doing this.  _ Spirits _ .”

Sky-blue eyes looked from Adrien to Garrus, while the latter hadn’t noticed the outburst the former looked about ready to crumple. Her tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth as she considered her options, being understanding wasn’t working. So she changed tactics.

“Look at me,” she ordered, her voice firm and emotionless.

The Primarch made no move, standing in stoic silence again.

“I said,” Solana began, taking a step away from her mated-brother and picking up the scrubs that Tenn had left for him. “Look at me.”

Adrien scoffed, but the second time worked and he did glance over. His crest resting on his forearm against the glass, his weight pressing into the lean. 

“You’re going to stop feeling sorry for yourself, get changed and get your ass in there. Garrus needs you to get out of your head. It’s over. He’s alive. You’re alive. It doesn’t matter who’s fault it is.” Her sub vocals mirrored the urgency of her words, a solid -no nonsense- reprimand. 

Solana wasn’t sure what she expected Adrien to say to her rant… but she was definitely not expecting him to laugh. And it wasn’t just a slight chuckle, but full bodied explosive laughter. It took the Primarch a full half minute to get through it, by the end he was clutching at his stomach.

“Uh… are you ok?”

“Sorry,” he replied in a gruff voice, his eyes looking less hard as he shifted to look down at her. “It’s been a long time since anyone’s needed to tell me straighten up.”

His bandaged hand reached out to take the clothing from her hands, Sol gave it up willingly and stepped away to allow him space to get changed. Her eyes went to watch the slow rise and fall of her brother’s chest while she waited.

“You needed it…” the young female hummed eventually, annoyed yet fond. Watching the elder out of the corner of her eye as he tied the surgical mask around the back of his neck and looped the elastic bands at the sides over the back of his mandibles. “Been stuck in your head all day, brother. It was time someone kicked you out.”

“Thank you, Sol. You’re right.” A large hand closed over her shoulder, and she met his eyes. The Blackwatch agent was only able to hold his intense gaze for a few seconds before she had to look away. 

“Well… good. Get in there.”

She turned and left him in the airlock to run the decon cycle, when she stepped into the hallway the three Blackwatch agents were staring at her, bewildered and Tenn was holding back a laugh. The nurse knew about their relation, the agents did not. 

Although the room was soundproofed? It did have glass walls. The four of them would have all seen her yelling at the Primarch of Palaven.  _ ‘Spirits, what did I just get myself into?’ _

Even with her years of practice, Solana wasn’t able to stop the light blue flush that sprung to her neck. So instead of hiding it she decided to put the other agents into their place. Sky-blue eyes tightened into a glare.

“If you have a problem with my methods or how I deal with my brothers?” she snapped. “Then say so.” A chorus of  _ no ma’am _ hit her ears and she nodded before starting to walk off down the hallway. Tenn at her heels, grinning in unfettered amusement. 

Voss was still waiting at reception, a mostly finished sandwich in her hands that had obviously been stolen from her mated-brother’s desk if his growl of displeasure meant anything. “Ready?” the midnight-toned turian inquired as they came to a stop.

“Lead on,” Solana’s hand gestured back the way they’d originally come in. “Thanks for your help, Tenn. Call me if anything changes?”

His gunmetal-grey crest dipped in understanding. “You got it.” He looked up and called after his mated-sister, “You owe me lunch!”

Voss didn’t reply beyond a non-committal wave.

Turning away, Solana needed to jog a couple of paces to catch up with the shorter female. Voss was walking at quite the pace for someone a few centimeters shy of average height. Once she was keeping pace Solana looked over to the older female. 

“Were you being literal when you said he was asleep on the floor?”

“Yes.” 

“Oh.” 

Voss titled her head to look at the taller turian. “It’s not that unusual. I’m sure you’ve seen soldiers asleep on their feet between skirmishes?” Sol nodded. “Think of it like that, only Tiran’s battlefield in the operating room. His enemy, the surgery.”

They carried on for a few more halls and a set of stairs that led them down to a section of the hospital that the Vakarian scion wasn’t familiar with. Voss stopped abruptly, Solana carried on a few extra steps before backtracking to the door the shorter female stopped at.

“He’s in there. No need to decon, room needs a full scrub regardless.” With a wave of her delicately manicured fingers the cyberneticist was off. Leaving her potential sister at the doors, not knowing at all what to expect.

Taking a deep breath, the blue eyed turian swallowed down her discomfort and pushed on the entry panel. The doors opened to a scrub station and decon chamber, larger and more well equipped than the tiny airlock leading to Garrus’ intensive care room. A large window led into the operating room, she couldn’t see anyone in there. Just a surgical table with a mess of tools and blue-stained bandages splayed about. The viewing gallery a storey above the room still had a few turians and an asari standing in it, talking amongst themselves.

Sol shook her head at them just leaving her partner on the floor, a scoff falling from her tongue as she stomped through decon to find him. The smell of the operating room hit her as she walked in, it was as though she’d walked right into a biotic barrier it was so strong. Blood, antiseptic and metal. 

It was nauseating. 

But Solana was nothing if not determined. She moved further into the room, spotting a taloned pair of feet behind the surgical table. Rounding the furniture blocking the way, she laid eyes on her love. Splayed out on his back, eyes closed and breathing deeply as he slept, the slight wheeze she’d become familiar with, a little deeper than usual. 

The smile that came over her mandibles was fond. Tiran didn’t budge as she stepped to his side and squatted down, her elbows resting on her thighs as she looked him over. The mint green scrubs he wore were spattered with what she assumed was her brother’s blood. His bare talons were clean however, she suspected that he’d taken the time to remove his gloves before collapsing. A single hand stroked along his broad fringe before she rubbed her thumb along the white colony paint under his left eye.

“Tiran,” Sol hummed at him, her voice filled with only warmth and loving tones. “Amore, it’s time to wake up.”

The charcoal plated male stirred, eyes crinkling shut a little further before opening slightly. Squinted against the bright overhead lighting. One of his hands came up to cover his mouth as he coughed, “Sol?” 

Her head tilted to the side, mandibles flaring outwards in a grin. “Just me. Time for bed.”

Tiran groaned as she forced him to sit up, one of her strong hands grasping the back of his neck and the other wrapped around one of his own. The doctor didn’t seem to want to be moving just yet, but went along with her urgings.

“When did yo-” he broke off for a coughing fit. One of the powerful ones that scared the usually calm Blackwatch agent. She pushed in behind him, stabilizing his back with her own body as he hacked and wheezed through it. Spattering blood into his hand. 

Solana couldn’t quite stop the keen that emanated from her chest. She wasn’t well equipped to handle her partner when he went through these fits. They reminded her too much the darker days where she lay in a cramped cot on a starship in the middle of the war, her leg screaming at her as she clung onto Tiran with all her might. He used to spend a lot more time coughing up a lung in those days. Working himself to exhaustion daily and more passing into unconsciousness for the night cycle than actually sleeping.

When it came to an end, the doctor’s breaths were wheezing. “Sor- sorry. Didn’t  _ -cough- _ mean to freak you out.”

Her arms wrapped around his keel and she nuzzled into his shoulder. “You ok?”

“Mhm. Will be. Just ti- tired.” His fringe fell back against her shoulder as the charcoal plated male yawned. He left his head against her and nuzzled into the side of Solana’s face. His sub vocals betraying both his exhaustion and content at having her there.

“Alright you, bedtime.” The pale plated female stood and began to pull her partner to his feet. Despite his protests. “Come on, Amore. Tell me where the nearest on call rooms are and I’ll carry you.”

Tiran grumbled something about not needing to be carried, but let her shoulder a fair amount of his weight as they made for the bunks, arm in arm.

+-+-+-+

Liara leaned back against the bar on her stool, a bright smile on her face as she sipped at a fruity alcoholic beverage. Sunset was just upon them. This day was their last on the island, having spent a fair number of months in the sun for Shepard to heal and relax. They’d taken a handful of daytrips into Alliance HQ and to the Citadel, but thus far they’d always returned to the resort. It was set to open in a few day’s time, which is why they’d chosen to depart now. 

Though, the invitation to stay was tempting. She loved it here.

They sat underneath the bar’s overhang, watching the sun warp the skies into a thousand colours as they’d do every night. It reminded the Shadow Broker of Thessia, and better days. She made a long wistful sigh before a guffaw from Shepard’s old squadmate brought her back to the present. Zaeed Massani was standing behind the bar fixing himself a drink as he chatted with John.

The old human mercenary had taken to the local rather quickly. He, along with the rest of the squadmates who remained on Earth, had been swapping out regularly for dual guard duty and relaxation time. Zaeed was quite taken with the little island of Antigua, and had found himself a small three-room bungalow just a few kilometers away from the resort. Thus he was their most regular guest.

Tuning back into the conversation, the blue-toned asari watched on as her fiancee attempted to learn how to sing. Massani, of all people, his teacher. 

“No no no…” the man barked, lips pursing as he attempted to have his pupil try again. “It’s more of an ahhh then an awww.”

“Auuu?” John repeated, trying to copy the merc.

“Damn it Shepard,” he grumbled before looking to Liara for assistance. The asari waved him off, giggling behind her palm. She saw no reason to intervene. His mismatched pair of eyes glared at her. 

Her loved sighed, picking up his beer and having a sip of the bitter liquid before setting it down on the bartop with a quiet clink. “Remind me again why you know how to sing like a turian, Massani?”

“Thought I’d told you this one before,” he grinned around the lip of his whiskey glass. “Don’t mind tellin ya again though. There was this turian way back. An informant ya see…”

Around that point in the story Liara tuned out, having heard it on at least three separate occasions. One could only hear - _ ‘I was the only one to make it out alive,’- _ so many times. Instead the asari checked her omnitool for messages, noticing that Glyph had marked one a priority for her she placed her glass down and wandered down one of the concrete paths. The light yellow sundress she wore fluttering the the evening breeze.

When Liara pulled up the file, she felt the colour drain from her face. 

- **Assassination Attempt on Palaven’s Primarch -**

Her hands flew across the interface, pulling up as much information as she could. There were tens of articles already, the oldest a bare three hours from initial print. The further into them the information broker got the worse the implications. They ranged from the Primarch assassinated, to the Primarch killing the assailants. Then there was word of a Hierarchy Advisor involved.

Mind reeling, she didn’t even notice John come up behind her. 

“Liara?” 

The asari spun into his arms, expression panicked. “I… I… Shepard…”

“What is it?” the Commander asked while stretching his neck to see the lines of text scrolling rapidly on her arm. It was all in asari script, but he knew enough of it to read the main words in the headline. “Shit.”

“What’s goin’ on?” Zaeed bellowed from over by the bar, he was already coming towards them a hard expression on his face.

Her focus went back to John as he gripped her shoulders. “Liara, figure out what’s going on, I’ll message Garrus and we’ll get to the bottom of this.”

“Right,” her blue brow furrowed as she dug through the articles and eventually came to a video. Meanwhile Shepard had explained what was going on and was halfway through sending a message to his best friend. “Here, I’ve got something.”

The three of them watched on in abject horror as Adrien was shoved into an alley, Garrus appeared, then disappeared into the alley, and then the two of them were carted away in an ambulance. There was nothing they could have done differently, and at the moment nothing the trio could do from Earth.

“Goddamn bastards,” Zaeed swore as he wiped a hand over his milky eye. “The hell were they?”

“Dead. That’s what they are.” The normally level headed Commander was seething with anger, his hands glowing blue as his biotics raged without an outlet. 

Liara looked between him and the ex-mercenary, torn as to what to do. Seeing as John wasn’t in the best of minds at the moment, she took charge. “I’ll find out whatever I can, I know I’ve got Garrus’ family’s addresses. I’ll send messages there. Hopefully they already know…”

She caught the twitch of her human partner’s eyes that let her know he had yet to consider Solana and Castis. “Right. Do that and I’ll get the Normandy prepared in case we’re needed.”

“John, you’re not-”

“Stop,” he cut her off. “This is Garrus. If he needs us? We’re going.”

All she could do was nod. Once her partner’s mind was made up, there was little the asari could do to stop him. Despite Shepard’s recovery, he wasn’t combat ready. Would likely never be. But she left him for now. Having a task better than sitting idle. 

+-+-+-+

Absolute silence was not was Adrien expected when he stepped beyond the sterile airlock and into his mate’s intensive care room. The only sound was light sleeping breaths from the unconscious male on the bed. Not even the monitoring equipment surrounding him dared to beep. Shadows trailed over the walls, the only light source coming from the hallway where the Primarch could see the trio of Watchers standing guard. 

If he was honest with himself, it felt like entering a temple. Not like the ancient ones spread across Palaven to feel the Spirits, but the ones on Thessia where not a word was said beyond the gates. It felt wrong to be here. To break the quiet with his footsteps and the brush of mass manufactured cloth against his plates. But he did so nonetheless. Solana had been right, Garrus needed him.

For a moment, all he could do was stand at the edge of the bed. Watching the slow rise and fall of the bandaged chest before him. Too afraid to touch him. 

The Primarch stepped away long enough to grab a chair, using the moment to resettle himself. His golden eyes took in his partner’s form as he sat down, hands on his lap. Unable to reach out to him yet. It was too real in this moment. Too reminiscent of sitting beside the sheet covered bed that his first mate lay under after she died. 

Closing his eyes he could almost hear Tarquin squawking in the nurse’s arms.

When he opened them again he was expecting Kalla. 

Reaching out he touched Garrus’ hand. The solid warmth of it pulled Adrien back from the edge of desperation. Holding it tightly with both of his own until he felt steady once again. His mind reeling. Overstressed and overtired.

Despite the sniper’s numerous hospital and medical bay visits since they’d come together, this was the very first time Victus been to see him. Not on Menae or the  _ Normandy  _ or the Citadel had he been there to see this part beyond a grainy, poor quality vid-call. Beyond that, he hadn’t been there in the earlier days when he lost his team to the gangs or when half of his face was blown away by the gunship. Hell, he’d been a deck away when his partner had been raped. Not even there for him until days later.

Adrien was quickly coming to realise he’d missed so much of his mate’s life. Only heard about it in snippets and halting tones after Shepard’s party, just before the last days of the war. And from second hand reports and witness accounts. 

Until now it hadn’t mattered. Adrien didn’t think he needed to know, didn’t care to.

It was no wonder that the slate toned male didn’t recognize the turian who’d burst into the alley, with wild eyes and a snarl. It had been the part of himself that Garrus tried to shove down in a dark corner of his mind, forcing it away in lieu of a way to manage it. The  _ persona  _ that he called Archangel. 

Adrien was only now seeing what he’d done by helping his mate hide that part. Encouraging civilian duties, keeping him from stressors at work, taking control in the bedroom. Nothing he was doing was giving Garrus an outlet. If anything, he’d been discouraging of them. Wanting them to spend downtime relaxing instead of hunting or in the holo-training suites. 

Now it made sense as to why he’d been so intent on getting his workouts and range time in. Those were the only things that were keeping Archangel at bay.

Unknowingly the elder male had been hurting his partner. And the thought ate at him.

Time ticked along by, without a window or clock Adrien was left in the literal and metaphorical dark. His thumb caressed the same place on Garrus’ hand for what felt like hours. The staff outside the room rotated out after a while, a new trio taking their place in the same red and black standardized armor.

No one bothered them, though there was always a Watcher with eyes on the room. Every so often he’d see Tenn wander down the hall into view, he’d check the vid-screen outside the room, say a few words to the guards and disappear again. The third time the gunmetal-grey turian did so, Adrien sat back in his chair. Leaving one hand grasped around Garrus’.

Around the time he thought to check his omnitool for messages he felt a twitch. His grip firmed on Garrus’ hand and he leaned in towards the bed. Watching for movement in his mate’s eyes, it wasn’t long before he caught slivers of blue coming out from under heavy lids.

Ice-blue eyes blinked a few times to push away the fog of sleep, sharpening as the room came into focus around him. Both the sniper’s hands pulled to his face, pressing against his crest as though he had a terrible headache. Adrien didn’t exactly blame him, and though he longed for contact he waited patiently for Garrus to reach out to him instead.

He kept his voice quiet as he rumbled a warm greeting. The Primarch’s expression was soft as he watched his mate. “Hey.”

Though Garrus winced at the sound, he spread his fingers far enough apart to see Adrien between them. The older male felt the tension bleed off of the younger with the whoosh of breath the Advisor released and the subsequent shaky inhale that included his name, “Adrien?”

Without using true words he hummed another greeting and confirmation to his mate. Reaching out hesitantly to him, he waited until the hands dropped from his pale grey face before he slid his talons along the line of his mandible. 

Garrus’ eyes shut and he pressed into the contact, not allowing the white-painted turian to withdraw his hand despite it being covered with a sterile glove. Under the surgical mask his mandibles spread, appreciating the contact as much as the younger male seemed to be.

Admittedly, he’d forgotten he was wearing medical scrubs and not his suit. The sniper’s initial confusion made a bit more sense after that realisation.

Wanting to press his crest against his mate’s, Adrien stood up. Which turned out to cause Garrus an intense amount of distress, as he intoned a worried sound from deep in his chest and gripped the glove covered hand with both his own. “Stay.”

Putting out his best reassuring rumble, he leaned over Garrus and pressed his dark grey crest against its lighter match. After a calming minute he pulled back to gaze into ice-blue eyes. “I’m right here, love.” 

“Here…?” Garrus asked as he shuffled over, albeit with a fair amount of effort. He pulled on the front of Adrien’s shirt, asking him into the bed. “Please.”

Despite the thousands of reasons to say no, Adrien climbed onto the mattress beside his mate. The two of them were a little cramped, but like always they made it work. 

“Better?” the darker male asked as he settled. Garrus didn’t reply verbally, just pressed his nose into his slate coloured throat hide and sighed happily, his sub harmonics humming with exhaustion and pain. The few minutes awake seemed to be enough for the younger male. “Sleep, love. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Sleep too?” he asked in a disjointed, already half asleep kind of way.

Adrien nodded into his mate’s shoulder, a warm smile under the mask. One arm resting under his own fringe to support his head while the other trailed across Garrus’ bare plates from his face down his throat and chest. He just drew soothing lines as he went, watching the slow, even rise and fall as he slept. All the while wracking his brain for an answer to Archangel.

There had to be a better way, and Adrien was determined to find it.

+-+-+-+

Neither Vakarian nor Corinthus had made it home the night of the attack. They grabbed a bare few hours of rest in their respective offices as Menae left the sky and Trebia began to rise. Grabbing a quick ration bar they headed for the QEC room where they’d set up an emergency conference with the cluster Primarchs.

Together they stood on the central platform while eleven figures appeared before them in the eerie blue holographic outlines. The infighting began before all of them were even settled into their positions: Baetika yelling at Invictus, Silona complaining to Pulan. Although, when the twelfth turian appeared they all went silent, eyes snapping to the newcomer wherever he appeared before them on their respective units.

Primarch Louki Fidele of Solregit stood tall before them, already appearing to be on guard it seemed, as his head was tilted low to cover his throat. 

“Now that everyone is present, let us begin.” Vice-Primarch Corinthus announced, taking a position of easy parade rest. 

“Where’s Primarch Victus?” Invictus snapped at him, angry as usual.

Trebax’s emerald eyes slid over to him, head turning only slightly to face him straight on. “The Primarch is indisposed. A report on his condition and that of Advisor Vakarian’s will be made available to you shortly before the official statement is released.”

Silona’s Primarch pipped up next, her bright voice commanding attention. “Summarize for us Corinthus. We’ve all seen the news vid.” A chorus of agreeing rumbles met him and the ex-general felt it necessary to comply. 

“Victus sustained only minor injuries. Vakarian more serious, though he is out of surgery and resting in the intensive care unit.” 

“Let me ask again, where is Victus? Minor injuries and he can’t even bother to show up?” The angry Cluster Primarch growled low in his throat to express his displeasure. “That proper Cipritine blood of his too good for us?”

“Quiet,” Baetika snarled at him, her colony was one of the most loyal to the Hierarchy despite the war and she flaunted it whenever she had the chance. Then she turned to Corinthus, honest curiosity in her sub vocals. “Despite the tone… I would also like to know why Victus isn’t here, Corinthus. There’s been some… hm… shall we say rumors?” her eyes flicked beyond him at the male standing a metre back.

Trebax heard the low rumble from Vakarian, it wasn’t loud enough for the speakers to pick up on but he heard the message loud and clear regardless. The Security Chief didn’t appreciate the implications of her comment. 

“What rumors?”

Baetika’s holographic eyes came back to the Vice-Primarch, mandibles spread in anticipation of the details. “More specifically, that the Primarch has found himself a second mate since the long passing of his first. Can you confirm?”

“I suppose I must,” Corinthus replied hastily, his eyes scanning the crowd. “Primarch Victus bonded to Advisor Vakarian during the Reaper war. They had planned to officially announce the mating later this year. As such, he is currently attending his mate as would be expected of any proper turian in these circumstances and will return to duties when he is able. Are there any further questions?”

The surprise and shock turned into a chorus of no’s. 

“Then I shall continue,” the emerald-eyed turian’s tone was sharp and final. Closing off the line of discussion as quickly as he was able. He looked to Gothis next, “Of the seven would-be assassins, six wore the markings of the Digeris Colony. Despite the treaty being signed in the hours before the attack.”

The female’s crest dipped in shame as she explained what she knew of the situation. Admitting that the group was a known anti-Hierarchy entity that had disappeared in the days leading up to the signing. Her government had actually been able to get the treaty pushed through the senate because of their lack of protest weakening the opposing side. 

The group had quite the following before the attack, and it had appeared to be squashed overnight. The attempted assassination of the current head of state was underhanded. A dishonorable type of dealing that most proud turians wanted nothing to do with. It forced them back towards Hierarchy Citizenship and unity. The opposite of the intended effect.

Had the attempt been successful, perhaps there would have been a different outcome. A weak Primarch who could fall to the hands of low-tiered mercenaries wasn’t one that any turian wanted to hold power. Victus’ government would have fallen. 

All of that combined with injuring the turian hero of the Reaper wars seemed to have killed the Separatist leanings outright throughout the region that Gothis’ Primarch was in charge of. 

“However,” she continued, voice strengthening and growing colder as she scanned the room for Solregit’s Primarch. “The group that attacked Victus did not do so alone. Before leaving this cluster they had been non-violent. What have you to say Fidele? The seventh was one of yours.” 

Eleven sets of eyes swung to the, thus far, silent Primarch of Solregit’s Cluster. Louki Fidele. His markings were stark against his face, even in the singularly toned blue of the QEC unit. Fang painted jaw shut tight as he glared at Gothis a moment before moving to Corinthus.

“I have nothing to say,” he ground out.

Trebax waited a few beats. Vakarian taking a pace closer to his side as they held off for him to reply. It was the retired C-Sec investigator’s turn to take over, and he relinquished the centre position to him.

“Tell me Primarch Fidele, do you recognize this turian?” Castis inquired, his tone even and without emotion or sub vocalization. A few clicks on his omnitool sent the picture of the assailant to his and the other leader’s stations. 

Both he and Vakarian watched the male’s face as the image came up before him. Though Corinthus caught nothing, Castis did.

“One of yours, was he not? A defector from the Southern continent to your cause in 2171.” 

“Naqutus Beltheer.” Fidele replied, knowing he was caught. 

Trebax wanted to jump in, but he held his place. Hands tightening behind his back as he let Castis do what he did best. They waited in agonizing silence until the Primarch broke and began to elaborate.

“Defected to the Sundowner cause about halfway through the uprising, credited with three kills of Hierarchy soldiers and was one of the turians who disappeared at war’s end. To my knowledge, he hasn’t stepped foot on Solregit since.”

Again, Vakarian said nothing. Silona’s Primarch made to say something but he held up a steady gloved hand to still her. Just waiting for Fidele to crack.

“I know nothing else Vakarian!” he yelled once he’d finally snapped. “He’s dead now, what’s it matter?”

As calm as ever, Castis replied. “He isn’t dead, Fidele.”

If there’d of been colour in the QEC then Trebax wouldn’t have doubted the paling of his throat at the implications of the investigator’s statement.

“I was one of the supporters of the peace treaty!” he bellowed. “I have nothing to do with this attack.”

“And despite that you still fight us?” Corinthus couldn’t help but growl at him. “You lost a leg to Victus in that war. Why should we believe you now?”

Castis turned to look at him, silencing the Vice-Primarch with a glare before he turned back to Fidele and waited for his response. Sufficiently chastised Trebax drew back, old anger surfacing and festering in his sub vocals as he waited. 

“I’ve protected my people Corinthus, despite Palaven pulling our troops away to protect the homeworld. Can you say the same?” 

Vakarian held a hand to him, stopping his advance. Replying instead, “You know as well as I do the Reapers were the greatest threat the Galaxy has ever faced, Victus did what he needed to, to ensure the survival of our species.”

A few grumbles sounded from the other Primarchs, but most seemed to agree with him.

“We can look back now and see the mistakes that were made, the lives lost. But we are still here.” His voice was even and sure as he made his claims, delving further into what it meant to be turian and how together the colonies could come together and rebuild.

It was a moving speech, to be sure. 

Despite that, Fidele scoffed. “You talk of unity and strife Vakarian, but what have you done, hm? You stand on a pedestal. Looking down at us commoners who’ve had to claw out way up the tiers that you were born into. That your son solidified under you.”

Trebax watched the male’s spine tighten to a dangerous line, his shoulders firm up under the cloth of his suit until they were hard as stone. Through the holographic interface there would have been no change in the turian, but in person Castis was a sight to be feared.

“It still is not clear how you came to power on Solregit, Fidele. Keep your comments on my own tier to yourself.” How the steel-eyed male was able to keep his composure so well in check after the blatant insult, Trebax wasn’t sure. 

The pair stared one another down again, this time it was Castis who took the lead.

“See to it none of your other…  _ acquaintances…  _ see a need to interfere.”

Though his mandibles snapped tightly to his face, Fidele agreed. With that the meeting came to a fairly quick close. There were no further matters to attend to in this emergency session, thus Corinthus took his place on the podium and dismissed the group.

All but Gothis’ Primarch disappeared from view.

“My deepest sympathies to you, Security Chief Vakarian. Though I may not have known about the intention of the separatist group, I was aware they were headed to Palaven.”

Castis’ eyes closed as he nodded in understanding. “There is no blame here, what is done is done.” When his head raised he stared straight into the female’s blue holographic eyes. “You will see to it that any further attempts are disbanded, I’m sure?”

“Of course,” she smiled at him, all teeth.

“Then have a pleasant day Primarch... and good hunting.”

+-+-+-+-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed.  
> -VV


	26. Archangel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Truths come to light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies this is late. Heavy stuff this chapter!
> 
> Thanks to:  
> [ **Spicy_Gnome**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Spicy_Gnome/pseuds/Spicy_Gnome) For allowing me to inundate her with thousands of words and ideas. XD

 

Tiran woke to his omnitool buzzing incessantly on his wrist. Groaning he pushed himself up, jostling Solana as he did so. The willowy female had been curled around him, she didn’t seem impressed at being woken, but despite that she sat up with him, her bright blue eyes blinking away the sleep.

“Whatisit?” his love mumbled through a toothy yawn.

The charcoal plated male peeked at his tool, it hadn't been the emergency tone, thankfully but it was the urgent one. “S’fine, Spook. Go back to sleep.” He hummed a loving note as he slid out of the bed and pressed his crest against her’s. “I'll be back.”

“Mhnn? Where ya going?” Sol pushed her crest against his, a taloned hand catching on his bare arm. 

His smile was fond, his own hand sliding along the delicate curve of her mandible. “Message from Tenn,” he whispered as to not further disturb any of the others sleeping in the bunk room. When they’d arrived a few hours ago there had been three others, now it appeared that just two other beds were occupied. “I'm just heading over to check on Garrus.”

That got her up. “I'm coming.” 

All the doctor could do was nod and agree. Changing Solana’s mind was never easy, and when it came to her family it was worse. It was honestly a quality that he loved in her. He was a turian with strong clan ties and it was something he looked for in a mate. Though the remaining Vakarian clan was small, her views were similar to his own. It was endearing how much she cared for her own clan and how she'd taken his in.

The neurosurgeon found a spare scrub shirt before they left the quiet of the bunk room for the busy mid-morning hallways. His pants were clean enough and Sol had forced him to wash his face before sleep, but the day old shirt had been thrown to the laundry chute. His partner was looking surprisingly well put together considering the circumstances, her blackwatch standard fatigues had that worn-too-long look to them, but otherwise she was well put together. Her crisp blue colony markings perfect as ever on her dove-grey plates.

She followed a half pace behind him all the way back to intensive care where he picked up a datapad from a sleepy looking Tenn. A quick glance at the status bar told him it was well past the end of his mated-brother’s shift. “Go home to Alli,” he told the older male, a hint of reprimand in his voice that didn’t carry over to his sub vocals.

Tenn shook his head, standing slowly to round the counter and lean back against it so he could speak quietly to the pair. “Rather be here till you've seen him. Rest of the Clan is just as anxious about it. Plus…” the gunmetal-grey plated male paused, trying to suss out his wording. “There's been a statement put out. Scavengers will be trying to get in here soon enough for a glimpse or a holo.”

Tiran hummed in agreement at his brother’s rundown of events. If there was one nurse he wanted standing in the way of the media and his patient, it was Tenn. The massive turian was the best deterrent they had working for the hospital, clocking in at a solid 110kg and almost two and a quarter meters tall he was only rivaled in size by Garrus and height by Adrien.

“Do what you can,” the doctor placed a comforting hand onto the taller male’s shoulder and squeezed lightly. “I’ll let you know how he is.”

Tenn nodded once, closing his obsidian eyes in agreement before opening them and looking to Solana. “He did well overnight. Woke once. Your mated-brother is still with him.”

Watching the relief flooding to Sol’s face was palatable. Her mandibles spread in a soft smile, a whoosh of air left her lungs and the tightness dropped from her shoulders. “Thanks, Tenn. I just hope it worked.”

Deep grey mandibles fluttered knowingly. But he just nodded towards the hallway before turning away to round the reception desk again.

Though Solana stopped a moment to eye Tenn, her arms crossed over her keel, he was too anxious to see what the male meant and he was already halfway down the hall towards Garrus’ room before she appeared beside him, soundless as always. It had been months since they’d known one another, and only now was he getting used to her silent manner. Too used to noise, too used to movement from years of medical work and a packed clan home.

Only two Blackwatch agents were in the hall this morning, the windows to Advisor Vakarian’s ICU room were blacked out. When they reached the pair Sol greeted them with military efficiency, exchanging credentials with them before he’d even realized what they were doing. One was much taller than the other, but it was the smaller and wider of the pair that spoke with Solana.

“Agent Vok is in the airlock, ma’am,” the black-armored male explained. “Statement went out this morning from Hierarchy Command. Orders from Vice-Primarch Corinthus.” He tapped a few keys on his omnitool, sending over a data packet to her own which pinged in recognition.

“That’ll be all, thank you.” The pale-plated female motioned to Tiran to precede her into the airlock, and all the while the doctor’s mind was full of two thoughts. The first of his patient’s status, the second of his potential mates’. He knew that she was a Blackwatch engineer… but just how high ranked she was he wasn’t sure. It seemed like every other agent the came across called her ma’am, and that was slightly disconcerting.

The charcoal plated turian had been good friends with a Blackwatch agent once before, it had been years now but memories of her seemed to come back more and more around Sol. Though the two weren’t so much alike, they were in the ways that mattered. Intelligent, honorbound females that he was happy to know and have known.

There wasn’t time to ask right now. So the doctor pushed those thoughts to the back of his head to be discussed later. Solana had never begrudged him an answer when he asked… he just wasn’t one to ask often enough. Came with working as a doctor for Specters and Cabals. You learned not to find out more than medically necessary.

It had taken a few painful lessons before Tiran had learned that much, and occasionally he still messed it up.

Together they stepped into the airlock, as advertised there was a third agent waiting for them. Her gauntlet covered hand hovered immediately over her sidearm at the door opening, but her glare was quick to soften as she realised who it was. 

“Vakarian,” the black-armored agent greeted, heavy mandibles falling into a smile as she reached out a muscled arm to the taller female. The ruddy brown turian had a deep voice, almost with a gravelly consistency to it as she continued, “Been a long time.”

Sol took her arm, clasping her opposing hand on the agent’s shoulder. “Vok, thanks for coming.”  

“Of course. Details later, yes?” Once Solana nodded, the shorter agent looked beyond her to the thus far silent charcoal-plated turian, mandibles spreading in an obvious tease. “This that doctor you were telling me about? He’s cute.”

Tiran recoiled a little, startled by the implication. But the blue-eyed female just shoved her apparent friend’s armored shoulder. “Keep your claws to yourself,” she mock growled, almost letting a smile through when her eyes connected with his green ones over her shoulder. He had to push down a laugh. “Hush you...” Sol snapped at him playfully.

“Sorry,” he shrugged, grinning at Vok over his lover’s shoulder. “Taken.”

“Too bad.” The agent laughed, a hand pulling to her chest in an emotive heartbroken jest. 

The room was silent after that while he and Solana found gloves and masks. Looking beyond Vok and into the patient room, he could see that Adrien and Garrus were asleep together on the medical bed. It felt wrong to intrude, after everything they’d been through the last half-day or so, but as Garrus’ doctor he needed to. Thus, with a gloved hand he pressed the decontamination cycle button and waited for it to run. Blue UV lights shone in the small space, trailing from the floor of the airlock to the ceiling effectively cleaning the airlock of contaminants.

Once it was finished, he reached for the door panel. Vok’s voice stopped him, “Hey uh… Sol?”

“Hm?” she looked back at the shorter female, head cocking in question. 

“Was the Hierarchy statement true?”

Tiran could see that her mandibles pulled in tighter to her cheeks under the mask. Solana didn’t answer right away, just gestured for him to precede her into the room. The doctor did as asked, and watched her reply through the closed door. What the dove-grey female said was lost, but the armored turian looked sufficiently chastised when Sol followed him.

Humming in question to her, she shook her head whispering, “Later.”

He might’ve tried to get her to tell him, but a voice from the bed made the surgeon drop it for now. Adrien was awake. 

“Sol? Tiran?” the Primarch asked in a sleep lagged voice, pushing himself up from the bed.

The doctor hummed a reassuring tone, stepping around to the foot of the bed so that the elder male didn’t need to look over his shoulder at him. “Came to check in,” he told him with his hands making a calming and placating gesture since his face was inexpressive with the mask on. “How was the night?”

“Short,” he yawned as he moved his feet to the floor and stood up to stretch.

Tiran’s sub vocals turned slightly amused as he pulled up the medical data from the night on the datapad Tenn had given him. “Mhm. Sol can stay with him if you needed a few-”

“No.” Adrien snapped. It was louder than it appeared he meant it to be, as when Garrus made a light noise of protest in his sleep the darker male flinched, attention switching to him immediately. His voice lowered, sub vocals rumbling in comfort even as his mate began to wake. 

He felt Solana’s hand on his arm, reassuring in its steadiness as the two of them watched her birth-brother wake. Her mated-brother sat down in the chair at the bedside, one of his gloved hands attempting to soothe the younger male back to unconsciousness and failing.

Both of Garrus’ hands came up to cover his face, pressing into his crest as his eyes clenched tightly shut. Adrien hummed a soothing note, dropping his hand down to sit on his mate’s blanket covered thigh instead. Offering the sniper comfort however he could. 

Tiran on the other hand was watching on in amazement, his mandibles falling slack under the surgical mask and his eyes widening until the sclera was visible all around his vibrant green irises. He tracked Garrus’ injured arm as it moved seamlessly along with his uninjured one.

“It worked!” he shouted without warning, hands rising above his head with a happy whoop, as his sub vocals rang with relief and elation.Years of theoretical research, months of experimentation and testing, hours of surgery and here he stood, seeing his success for the first time. A thousand thoughts were swirling in his head, the foremost of which was  _ victory _ .

Two sets of eyes snapped to him, and the third closed with a wince. The doctor immediately regretted his outburst. “Shit, sorry. It worked!” he whispered the second time, humming apologetically while Sol shook her head at him, half amused and Adrien grumbled in annoyance while attempting to comfort his pained mate.

Garrus let out a tiny huff of a laugh, his voice raspy from disuse. “Think so... but hurts something fierce… ah...”

“I can help with that,” Tiran explained as he stepped up to the opposing side of the bed from Adrien and he began adjusting the medication in the injured turian’s IV line. In addition to the multiple other meds kicking around in his system he worked on adding a better alleviate.

“Don’t like painkillers,” the sniper mumbled as he continued to rub at his fringe, his mandibles pulling in tightly to his face and eyes clamping down tighter against the room’s dim lights.

“Come on G…” Solana began, her voice buzzing with concern. “Let Tiran take the edge off.”

Adrien seemed to agree with her as he nodded, and used his own hands to pull Garrus’ talons away from his face. “I’m not going anywhere, love. Let go a little.”

Garrus’ grumbled assent was enough for him and the doctor administered a moderate opioid. Not so much that he’d be high, but enough that he could relax. Less than he would’ve chosen to administer on his own. “How’s that?” came the doctor’s rumbled question once the tension began to drop from the bedridden turian’s shoulders.

“S’better.” 

With a nod, he backed off to give him a moment of space and also to mark down the dosage on the datapad. “Mind  _ -cough-  _ if I do a couple of tests?”

Adrien was the first to speak up, “Can’t it wait?”

“No,” Garrus’ hand grabbed onto his mate’s. “I’m ok. Better.”

Tiran took the sniper’s agreement as permission and he pulled up a light on his omnitool to check his ocular reactivity. There were a number of things looking at the eyes did for him as a neurosurgeon, from pupil dilation to eye movement and sensitivity to malposition of the iris or pupil, it all told him part of the story. The eyes were a window to the cranial nerves, and despite the mild discomfort he needed to cause to get the answers it was worth it.

Going through the familiar motions settled the doctor, no matter the patient the basics always did. Whether it was a high level Spectre or a child first starting to show their biotic potential, it didn’t matter. All that did was the medicine. 

“Beyond the headache, how’re you feeling?” Tiran inquired as he withdrew to make a few notes. 

A black taloned hand rubbed against the side of Garrus’ tawny brown throat. “Like I let Shepard drive the mako off a cliff again.” Adrien breathed out a small chuckle and his mate’s blue eyes slid over to watch him. “Told you he wasn’t a good driver.”

“More specific? Any localized pain, blurred vision, numbness?” Tiran clarified, a smile ghosting over his mandibles.

“Meds helped,” he admitted first, then the tall male thought about it a moment more. Wiggling his injured hand, he began anew, “Talons are numb, fair amount of pain pulling from bicep to elbow, various little aches but most correspond with bandages. No blur, but there’s almost like a dimming at the edges...” he shrugged with a single arm as Tiran had gotten used to him doing.

“Anything else?”

He looked like he was about to say something else but was interrupted by his own stomach as it growled at him. “Uh… sorry. Little hungry.”

Behind him Solana huffed a small laugh. “Always.” She dug into her pocket and pulled out the flavor of ration bar that Tiran remembered her brother favored and looked to him first, “This alright?” 

“As long as it’s been sealed and through decon it’s fine,” he dipped his charcoal crest to her and she offered the bar to Garrus, who took it rather quickly before fussing with the wrapper until it opened. The Advisor wasn’t comfortable being hungry, and Tiran could understand that.

“Why the masks and such anyways?” Garrus asked around a mouthful of bar.

To Tiran it was obvious, but he should have explained the reasoning earlier. It was easy to forget how little others understood basic medicine even when they were able to discuss brain surgery with you. As Garrus had been doing over the past months, he wanted to understand the procedure fully before he went under. He’d even had a few suggestions to improve the cybernetic programming that Voss was more than happy to add and call her own.

“Your immune system was trashed a few months ago when you went through the bout of starvation, since then it’s been improving  _ -cough- _ but I didn’t want to take any chances with infection considering I operated on your brainstem and spinal column. Everything’s going well so far, so once my scans are done we can probably lose the extra gear. However, you’ll be in the clean room another two days at least.”

Garrus made an unimpressed noise as he finished the last of the bar. “Bedrest? When Lawson operated I was back fighting the next day…”

Much to Tiran’s surprise it was Adrien that told off his mate. “Necessity versus what should have happened. There isn’t a war this time, or Collectors.”

“Just separatists…” the sniper mumbled, crossing his arms over his bare keel. The Primarch sighed, his talons gripping Garrus’ thigh a little tighter.

“We have time to do things differently,” Tiran explained in the silence that ensued after Garrus’ comment. He reached out a hand to him, requesting the injured arm with a sub vocal cue and the Advisor gave it over. Meticulously the doctor checked over his work, testing reflexes and sensation. Everything appeared to be the same or better than it had been before the surgery.

When the surgeon got to his patient’s elbow he was cautious with the joint, the number of nerves that connected and worked in the small area were likely the cause of the pain Garrus had mentioned. A press into the centre of his inner elbow made the light grey male tense and draw in a tight breath. So the doctor released the tension and moved to a slightly different spot, just a talon-width higher. “Better?”

“Yeah…” Garrus released the breath.

“The grafts I placed into your shoulder are going to take some getting used to. From the scans we have from before the surgery to now you’ve got a lot more sensation here than before. It should translate into improved reflexes once you’re settled and healed. Same with sensation throughout the arm.”

Tiran could see surprise in the pair of ice-blue eyes that were watching him. “You… you’re saying I’ll be able to feel my hand again?” he asked, sounding more than a little hopeful. The doctor smiled under his mask, despite the younger turian not being able to see it, and he nodded in agreement.

“Precisely.”

Adrien’s hand tightened slightly on Garrus’ thigh, of what the doctor could see, his face was drawn tight. His golden eyes downcast. “How long had it been like that?” the Primarch asked in a small voice. “How long since you’ve been able to feel?”

The sniper looked to his partner, finally admitting to him some of the problems from the past few years. “It’s… hm… hadn’t been right since the rocket. It was like I knew my hand was there, what it was doing, but it wasn’t my hand? It’s hard to describe. Like I could feel pressure but not actually feel it?” he half shrugged and laid his head back against the cushions with his eyes closed. “After the beam it was just gone. Couldn’t use my mandible or my arm. Then Miranda got it back… sort of…”

Solana had been standing back until Garrus’ admission. In the quiet that came after she stepped forwards, placing a hand onto the Primarch’s shoulder. “Let’s get something to eat alright? Let Tiran finish up?”

Adrien nodded in agreement and stood, taking one last look at his mate before following his mated-sister out into the airlock. The surgeon watched them leave before turning his attention back to his patient. Garrus’ eyes were still closed and as soon as the door closed he let out a pained hum.

“Can… can you up that dosage a little more?” he asked hesitantly. “My head’s pounding.”

Humming in agreement, the doctor did just that. Adding enough medication to the IV line that he was comfortable, what he’d wanted to administer in the first place. “Want to tell me what’s going on with you two?” Tiran was admittedly concerned about not only his patient, but his friend, so he dropped the doctor facade for a moment.

Garrus pulled his hand away, uncertain at first as he rubbed his fringe with the newly fixed talons. “I uh… didn’t exactly tell Adrien everything.”

“No?”

“Er… no.”

Tiran rounded the bed to sit in the vacant chair, watching the bedridden turian intently for a few moments before choosing what to say. “Start by telling me?”

Sharp blue eyes shot open to stare into his own bright green ones. They were locked in a contest for a few minutes before Garrus gave in and started to speak. “He knew the general things, but I never really let on how... “ he cut off and turned away, features tight as he came to terms with himself. “I didn’t tell him about the pain. I didn’t tell him I couldn’t feel. I just… didn’t know how. I got so used to it by myself. Hiding it.”

“You don’t need to hide, Garrus.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he refuted quietly. Looking up again, a hard expression on his face. Mandibles drawn in tightly. “I’ve been hiding half of myself. A part Adrien hadn’t seen before… or until yesterday he hadn’t.”

Tiran’s head tilted in slight confusion as he attempted to process what his friend had just tried to explain. Hiding half of himself… it didn’t make much sense.   

Garrus caught on and delved further without prompting. “There are some less than savory parts of myself that are having trouble adjusting to civilian life. What’s Sol told you?”

“Not much,” Tiran admitted. “You were a sniper. C-Sec detective. Hierarchy liaison in the war…” he stopped, coughing into his cowl before turning back to the bed.

“I was Hastatim during the first years of my service. I didn’t adjust well to C-Sec after that, part of why I jumped at the chance to work with Shepard and bring down Saren Arterius. After that… I was a vigilante for awhile. Got these…” he gestured to his scars, “then came the Collectors and the Reapers. And now… it’s all gone. I’m all that’s left.”

“Does he know where you’ve come from?” the doctor asked tentatively when Garrus stopped, carefully keeping any hint of surprise or judgment out of his voice. He hadn’t known about the younger male being on the urban warfare squads, nor his vigilante days. And he wasn’t sure if Solana knew about it all either. 

A past like that was bound to bring with it memories just as bad as the ones from the Cabals he used to work with. Years of an adrenalin high followed by a complete falloff. It was understandable… expected even.

“That much Adrien knows.” Garrus sighed, adjusting himself back on the cushions so he could look at the ceiling instead of at the other turian. “He doesn’t know how difficult a time I’m having suppressing those less savory aspects. As Hastatim they pushed you to merciless. While I was on my own I learned to be ruthless… had to be. Then, when I was on the  _ Normandy _ I had an outlet… now? I’m floundering.” He dropped his gaze down again, this time to stare off into the middle distance. “A Primarch shouldn’t be mated to a killer, but I’m not sure how to be anything else.”

“Have you talked to anyone?”

“Dad, sort of.” Garrus scoffed. “I’m not much good at talking.”

Tiran made an understanding noise before falling silent. He had the standard training to deal with post traumatic stress, all turian doctors did. But that didn’t mean he was equipped to handle the severity of his potential new brother’s. He’d had practice in the Cabals, more than any neurosurgeon truly should, and he could always call on his grandmother for help if needed. So he replied:

“If it’s easier? You can talk to me.” 

“And… you won’t tell my family?” Garrus’ eyes swung to him, the tight pleading expression on his face made his heart ache.

“No. Not if you don’t want me to.”

+-+-+-+-

The Blackwatch Agent standing guard didn’t say a word when Solana and Adrien stepped into the airlock, she snapped to attention and waited while the pair removed their medical gear. Her amber eyes watching intently and meeting his mated-sister’s eyes when she thought that he wasn’t paying attention. The Primarch let the movement slide. Not wanting to reprimand Garrus’ Watcher in his current mindset.

Sol led them out into the hallway, she looked to the other two agents when they snapped to attention as well. “Cafeteria,” she told them and one began leading the way while the other dropped back to follow. 

The pair of Watchers were as unobtrusive as possible, as was the dove-plated female who kept pace with him as they walked. Adrien’s mated-sister was waiting in silence for him to be ready to speak, not forcing the issue. The professionalism should have been comforting to the life-long military commander, but all it did was grate.

Leading them, the first of the agents parted the crowds in that effortless way only higher ranking officers tended to be able to do. Act like have somewhere important to be, and others will move for you. When Adrien glanced over his shoulder about 20 meters into the walk the second Watcher had disappeared. It was a skilled set he’d been assigned. He’d have to thank Corinthus for that later.

“Did you know?” the slate-plated turian asked in a low voice as they approached the elevator that would take them down to the ground floor. The lead Watcher pressed the panel and waited a few meters away from the pair, scanning the hallway while Solana considered the question.

She shook her head, “No. I don’t think anyone did.”

The lift arrived and the Primarch stepped inside, looking to the Watcher he shook his head once. And the shorter male nodded and moved out of Solana’s way. “Reconnect in the cafeteria.”

“Sir,” the armored turian agreed without quarrel.

As the doors closed, Adrien pressed the button for the first floor and waited until they were alone and moving before he looked to Solana. “Stop the elevator, make it safe.”

Her omnitool was out faster than he’d of thought possible. The lift didn’t get more than a level before it came to a silent halt and not a half minute after that the surveillance camera shorted out above them. “Done.”

“Good,” he mumbled as he slumped back against the wall, hands gripping the metal railing tight enough for the joints to creak. “I need help, Solana.”

Her light voice hummed an affirmative as she took up a place beside him, arms crossing over her keel. “How so?”

Stormy eyes closed and he sighed. “I came to the realisation last night that I need to know more about him. When I fell in love with your brother, I told him I didn’t care about his past. Because of that, he’s never given me anything beyond the basics. That past is hurting him now, and I don’t know how to help. I can’t.”

Her teeth ground together as she mulled over what he said.

“I want…” Adrien stopped, scoffing at himself. “What  _ I want _ . Spirits.” Solana raised a hand to his shoulder in comfort, but he brushed it away and pushed himself off the wall to pace. It only took three steps to get as far away as he could go. His expression frustrated and tired as he rested his palms against the closed doors and let out a sigh.

“G won’t seek help on his own,” Solana began after a moment of silence. “He’s never been much of a talker. Not even when he was a fledgling. Took mum two days to figure out he’d broken his arm after falling out of a tree in the gardens,” Adrien turned around to see the fond smile on Solana’s face, the sorrow in her eyes.

“What do we do then?”

Sol hummed in consideration. “I’ll talk to Dad. He had some success with him on the Citadel after the war. Maybe he’ll open up to him if not one of us.”

Adrien pushed out a breath in agreement and motioned for her to restart the lift. “Been feeling out of my depth a lot lately.”

“You aren’t the only one,” she gave him a reassuring smile before clicking a few keys and restarting motion on the lift. “Did you see the statement yet? I haven’t.”

“No.”

“Agent Vok, the one in the airlock? She’s a friend. Told me the basics. Your relationship is in the open. You both survived the attack, but Garrus is in hospital.”

Adrien nodded. “Thought so. Corinthus has been badgering me for months to put out the official bonding statement. Would have made this easier. Less publicity. Now the media has the attack and my secret.” Holding his head with one hand he pushed down a growl of displeasure. “I’m supposed to be protecting my mate. But I keep messing it up.”

Solana might’ve tried to comfort him, but the lift stopped. He stood up straighter as the doors opened and they stepped out into the lobby. It was bustling with turians and aliens alike at this mid-morning hour. Golden eyes scanned the crowd as they walked, he first caught the male watcher from earlier and then someone very unexpected.

Adrien came to a grinding halt fast enough that Sol walked a few paces past him before realising he wasn’t following. Commander Shepard was standing at the reception desk, decked out in a full enviro-suit with the helmet tucked under his arm. Doctor T’Soni was standing at his side, wearing a set of white and light blue armor as she’d done on the  _ Normandy _ .

The Primarch’s head tilted to the side in moderate confusion, Sol followed his line of sight and caught on within a few seconds. As far as he was aware, the younger Vakarian had never met the Commander or anyone else from the Commander’s crew. He took the lead, crossing through the lobby to where the human was standing and speaking rather harshly with the turian receptionist.

“I’m sorry sir,” the grey-plated male was explaining as they approached, sub vocals long past annoyance. “That information is private, it doesn’t matter if you’re a Spectre or not, you aren’t Clan. Perhaps there is someone related you can call?”

Shepard managed a half decent growl of indignation in response, arms resting at his sides and head tilted low over his throat. The man had apparently been practicing his turian mannerisms since they last saw one another. “I’ve already done that.”

As they got closer, and rounded the corner of the counter Adrien could see that Liara was quite busy on her omnitool. And that? Made a little more sense. Shepard was purposefully wasting time while the asari broke into the computer system. He nearly laughed, though he instead let out a huff of breath. Anything more might’ve drawn attention.

“Commander,” he called out. The entire trio spun to look at the source of the rank, finding he and Solana in the space of a few seconds. The receptionist was stunned to silence. “Doctor T’soni. I didn’t know you were coming.” 

“Primarch,” the human greeted, relief flooding his features. He took a few paces towards them, stopping a meter or so away. “And you must be Solana?”

His mated-sister managed to keep the surprise out of her voice. “Correct. It’s nice to meet you in person.” She reached a hand out in the human gesture and he took it.

“Perhaps…” Adrien took a sweep of reception, there were a fair number of eyes on them now. Recognition of the Commander and himself falling into place quickly now that a few people had overheard them speaking. “We should move to somewhere a little more private?”

Sol’s eyes followed his own and her tool was up immediately. Liara made a small  _ ahem _ noise and the pair of turians looked to her. “Already taken care of, Solana.” She tapped her omnitool twice, a wicked smile on her serene face.

The dove-plated turian chuckled. “G wasn’t kidding when he said his friends were good.”

“I don’t think he was, no.,” The asari agreed and gestured for her to lead the way.

The receptionist was still a little flabbergasted by the sudden appearance of not only Commander Shepard, but the Primarch of Palaven as well. He hadn’t said a word since the pair of turians had arrived. And the male kept all comment to himself as the odd foursome walked away in the direction of the cafeteria.

Partway down the hall they managed to find an empty nurse’s lounge that Solana was able to get them into without much trouble. The small, taupe-painted room held a pair of turian styled couches and a kitchenette along one side. The back wall had a few windows that overlooked the hospital’s gardens. Adrien strode into the room and sat down on one of the tall brown couches with Shepard while both Solana and Liara secured the room.

The Shadow Broker nodded and sat down by Shepard when she’d finished her checks, and Solana confirmed the same from her position leaning comfortably against the wall by the door. A shadowed figure stood outside the opaque glass behind her. From the Blackwatch Agent’s calm demeanor, Adrien took it to mean that one of his Watchers had found them.

“So… how is he?” John began, watching the Primarch intently.

“The surgery went well,” the taller male explained. “He’s in the ICU with his doctor having a few tests run now.”

Liara was the first to react, a smooth breath falling from her lungs into the room with a mumbled, “Thank the goddess.” Shepard seemed to relax a bit as well, but he still held the tension a little tighter in his shoulders than Liara had. 

“We saw the vid. Got here as soon as we could.”

“A vid?” Adrien asked, a waver in his voice that showed his uncertainty. If the entire turian populus had seen the entire confrontation they might be in a lot more trouble than first thought. Garrus had been vicious, and he had personally not looked the part of a Primarch, he was certain of that.

“Just the mouth of the alleyway,” the asari explained, seeing that he was confused about the revelation. “Security missed a camera down the street, the footage was grainy but they got the initial confrontation and your departure.” Liara’s clear blue eyes flicked to Solana for a moment before continuing, “I’ve ensured nothing else has gone live, and security at the hospital has been tight. I only managed find out you were here, not his location.”

Sol looked about ready to ask a slew of questions, but held at Adrien’s raised hand and sub vocal cue meaning  _ later _ . “It’s good the two of you are here, I need to ask a few questions.”

“About?” Shepard leaned forwards on the opposing settee, his elbows on his knees. 

The slate-plated male drew in a tight breath, heavy mandibles betraying his distaste for the topic at hand. “I need you to tell me about  _ Archangel _ .”

Liara didn’t move at the mention of that name, Solana hummed in question, Shepard froze only for a moment before sitting back on the couch, looking to the ceiling as he exhaled a long frustrated sigh. The human’s hands moved to cover his face, rubbing at his forehead as though he had a headache forming behind his eyes.

“Why ask me?” he questioned eventually, still refusing to open his eyes and face the turian. “It’s… not my place.”

“He won’t talk to me about those days and I don’t know how to help him,” Adrien admitted in a solemn tone. “I fought beside Garrus on Menae, watched mission vids on the  _ Normandy _ but yesterday was the first time that I saw Archangel.”

“Hold on just a damn minute…” Solana broke the silence that followed his admission, pushing herself off the wall and dropping her hands to her sides. “Are you trying to tell me that my brother is Archangel? That… vigilante from Omega?”

Three pairs of eyes snapped to Solana. Two wide with surprise and the third pair, the Primarch’s golden orbs, quickly looked away in resignation. “You needed to know. I apologise for not being more tactful about it, Solana. But we don’t have time for that right now.”

“Right. Well… what does that have to do with anything now?” Solana’s voice was tight with worry, and Adrien hated himself for making her sound that way.

“Adrien, what do you mean you saw Archangel?” Liara asked calmly, trying to suss out the full extent of the situation.

The Primarch sighed, pulling his gaze up from the floor to watch the asari for a moment. “Did you see any of the altercation inside the alley?” The pair of aliens shook their heads to indicate they hadn’t. “One of the mercs had a gun on me, I was using the initial attacker as a shield and trying to waste time. The merc shot the male between us and Garrus burst into the alley, how he’d gotten there I still don’t know.”

He paused, considering his words as he relived the incident in his mind. “It was Garrus, but it wasn’t at the same time. I’ve never seen that look in his eyes, the snarl in his voice. It wasn’t him. Not really…”

Shepard’s mouth was drawn into a tight line, his voice rough when he spoke again. “I know that look. Honestly I never thought I’d see it again after we dealt with Sidonis.”

“Lantar Sidonis?” Adrien questioned, trying to make sense of it all. The human confirmed the name, much to Solana’s further confusion if her sub vocals were any indication, but she remained silent. “I only know enough to be dangerous, not enough to actually help. You were there with him after Omega, Shepard. Help me,” he looked at his mated-sister, “Help us, understand.”

The human released a long sigh, his scarred face turning from Adrien to Solana before he nodded. “To understand? We need to go back to the beginning…”

+-+-+-+

A solid hour and a half later Shepard stood alone in the airlock between Garrus’ ICU room and the hallway where Adrien paced, trying to sort out what he’d just been told. His best friend’s past wasn’t full of sunshine and rainbows any more than his own was. No… instead it was filled with fire and death. Admittedly some of that was self inflicted, on both their counts, however without their joint pasts the Reapers would have likely killed them all.

Fate was a fickle thing.

The decontamination cycle pinged when it was complete, allowing him to open the clear glass door and step inside the room. Though he still wore his envirosuit, he was without a mask, Garrus’ doctor confirming that it would be alright when they’d met with him in the hallway. Doctor Tiran Melandra. Nice enough guy, seemed to be just as overinvolved as Karin had always been which made him smile a little.

At the very least medically Garrus was in good hands… er… talons.

The room was a sterile white, with that same cloying antiseptic smell that seemed to cling to hospitals, no matter what the species. Silent equipment surrounded his friend, more monitors than the human Commander knew what to do with, or knowledge of what they could possibly be for. Garrus himself looked to be dozing lightly, bare arms and chest covered in bandages above a well starched blanket.

He made sure his footsteps were loud enough to be heard as he made his way to the bed, watching his friend’s eyes tighten under their lids as he listened, obviously attempting to place the gait. It wasn’t quite the same as it had been on the  _ Normandy _ , now the human had an obvious limp in his left leg and he was a fair amount lighter from the weeks he spent in a coma.

“Shepard?” the turian broke the room’s silence.

“Good guess, G.” John grinned, settling himself into the vacant turian styled chair at his side. “Not going to look at me?” he questioned after a silent minute when Garrus still hadn’t opened his eyes.

At the tease he did, squinting against the lights. “Sorry. Headache.”

“Mhm…” he hummed in understanding. “Heard it was quite the surgery. How’s the arm?”

The turian’s right hand lifted a few centimeters off the bed and he wiggled his talons. “Working. Sore.” Glacial-blue eyes shut again, giving up on squinting into the dimly lit room. “Didn’t know you were coming. Would have tried to find coffee or something…”

The Commander smirked, a bit of a chuckle rumbling in his throat. “Yeah, bit of an impromptu trip… friend got shot you see and I figured I should make an appearance.” 

Garrus scoffed. “Right… and here I thought it was just for the sunshine.”

“Mhm… Palaven’s nice. Hot. Met your sister, too. Reminds me a lot of you.”

The sniper coughed a laugh into the spartanly furnished room, sitting up a little straighter and opening his eyes again. “Don’t tell her that.” The biotic nodded in understanding, the smile still plastered to his face. “So… uh… came to check in on me then?”

“Had to show you how well my singing lessons are going.”

“Just as well as your dancing?” Garrus taunted.

“Worse,” John admitted in the quiet of the room, making the turian chuckle again. He waited for Garrus to calm again before he let his face drop the smile and turn concerned. “Heard you’re having some trouble. I want to help.”

“I talked to Tiran, sorry, my doctor, about it a little.”

Shepard nodded, sitting back in his chair a little with his good leg crossed over his bad. “Yeah, we met briefly. Saw Adrien for a bit too. We talked.”

“Explains where he went…” Garrus mumbled, mandibles pulling in tight against his face. “Should I ask what about?”

“I think you know.”

“Archangel?”

Shepard nodded in confirmation while Garrus swore. He curled in on himself, looking smaller than the Commander ever thought was possible for the mountain of turian that was his best friend. He knew that they were dark days, the worst in his friend’s life. Ones that he was sure the then-vigilante regretted in some ways but wouldn’t change, because despite all the bad, there were good days in there too.

The human wasn’t quite sure what to do, so he waited in silence. It was a trick that Garrus had actually introduced him to. An old cop tool. Wait long enough and someone will fill the void. It didn’t take as long as Shepard expected it to before the ex-Detective broke. His words were halting and rough, but he managed without opening his eyes.

“What… what did you say?”

“Who you were, some of the missions you ran, hits you made.” Garrus winced at the last comment, so John attempted to reassure him a little. “Nothing too drastic, but enough for them to understand.”

His friend’s head shot up, eyes wide. “Them?” John’s mouth dropped into a frown as the turian continued, his voice had an underlying growl to it. “You said them. Who else Shepard?”

The biotic was mildly confused by the sudden shift in his friend. “Solana,” he admitted in an even and honest voice.

The noise Garrus made was one that the Commander couldn’t say he’d ever heard before, and he wasn’t quite able to describe. It was almost a roar, but more anguished than that, coming from deep in the turian’s chest as he dropped his face into his hands. John stood from the chair and placed a hand onto the larger male’s shoulder in attempts to comfort him but was pushed away with a rough shove.

As Shepard stumbled back into the chair, nearly knocking it over, Garrus began ripping the medical equipment off of himself. The monitors had started going haywire as his heart rate rose and his blood pressure skyrocketed. Blood spurted from where he tore the IV out, a spray of blue staining the crisp white sheets and leaving a streak across the floor.

“Garrus stop!” he shouted at the turian, carefully getting to his feet again with his hands out in front of himself as he tried to placate the raging turian. Never, in either of his lives, had he seen someone so angry.

Never had he been afraid of Garrus.

The sniper had managed to get out of the bed, and he shoved the closest piece of medical equipment, which happened to be the IV stand, to the tiled floor. It made an impressive clanging noise that could be heard over the snarling turian and incessantly beeping machines.

“Why would you do that!” he yelled, his talons splayed out at his sides and teeth on full display. “Telling Adrien was bad enough! But you told my sister? You told her what a spirits damned monster I am?”

His chest was heaving, and Shepard could almost feel the low growl that resonated from him. 

“Garrus, I’m sor-”

“NO! You don’t get to fix this Shepard!” he snarled and turned away to put distance between them. When he got to the far wall he slid down it to sit on the floor, the rage drained out of him almost as quickly as it had started. “You can’t,” his voice broke over the words. “Just… just get out.”

Shepard stumbled backwards, tripping over himself on the way to the door. There was nothing he could do. He’d royally fucked things up it seemed. As he reached the door, the doctor and Adrien had just finished going through the decontamination cycle and entered, the pair rushed past him. 

“Ga-” Adrien began, but was cut off by his partner.

“GET OUT!” he roared, his head in his hands.

A new sound began, one the pair of turians seemed to recognize as they looked at one another with grave expressions. It was almost like a wail or a keen. An alien version of crying, the human realised belatedly. And he’d caused it. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat.

John managed to get himself into the airlock before stopping to lean against the wall, his face hot and eyes damp. He watched on as the Primarch tried to reach out to his mate’s bare and bandaged form. With the door closed he couldn’t hear anything, but the sight of Garrus crumpled and refusing his partner was more than enough to hurt him. He closed his eyes and slid down the wall just as Garrus had. 

He hardly noticed when Liara stepped into the box with him. The asari took a moment to kneel down beside him, probably because she’d glanced into the intensive care room for a moment before turning her attention onto him. “John?” she asked in a soft, understanding tone as she placed a cool hand on his shoulder. “What happened?”

His own voice was blunt, emotionless, “I told him Solana knows about Archangel.”

The sound of the decontamination cycle running again made him look up, he hadn’t heard the second pair of footsteps but now he could see the turian in question. She waited at the door to her brother’s room with an intense look in her sky-blue eyes.

“Solana…” he said to get her attention and her cobalt-painted face turned towards him. “I’m sorry. Tell him, I’m sorry.”

She didn’t reply. Only nodded and stepped inside the room to see to her anguished and injured sibling. John forced himself to stand up so that he and Liara watched the proceedings.

Tiran was righting the medical equipment, while Adrien knelt two or so meters away from Garrus talking to him and gesturing with his hands. At Solana’s entrance, the doctor looked up and then motioned her over. He said something and she nodded, taking something from him and placing it into her tunic pocket as her pale grey crest touched his darker one. She placed a hand on his cheek for a moment before she pulled away and crossed to the Primarch.

When she reached her brother-in-law, she placed a calm hand on his shoulder and she spoke to him in what looked like a soothing way. His face turned up to look at her, and he shook his head in argument. Solana was firm, however, as after another few seconds his head bobbed in assent and he stood, backing off to sit in the chair by the bed. Give the siblings space.

Adrien smoothed a hand along his fringe, and he took a long breath before saying something to Tiran, who nodded while covering his mouth with his sleeve to cough.

John was anxious as Solana approached her brother. “I’ve never seen him like that…”

“Neither have I,” Liara admitted, her hand on the small of his back to support him as they stood watching. She didn’t look at him as she continued. “The only other time I remember him coming close to this was at your funeral.”

He felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach. “Really?”

It had always been something that the Commander was morbidly curious about, but he’d never actually asked anyone what his funeral had been like. Who had come. What people had said. If anyone had given a eulogy. It had felt wrong. So to have Liara bring it up now… well...

The asari’s hum of agreement pulled him out of his head. “He blamed himself for not being there during the attack. For going back to C-Sec before pursuing Spectre training.”

“That’s not…” Shepard cut off, swinging his gaze to look at his partner. She met his eyes.

“I know,” her soft lips quirked into a remorseful smile. “I know, John.”

The human took her hand and she squeezed his back.

Back in the intensive care room, Solana had managed to cross the distance and was kneeling down in front of Garrus. One of her hands was on his uninjured shoulder, the other on his scarred mandible as she spoke with him. When she stopped the sniper’s head shook vigorously, his head rose as he replied to her. Argued. But Sol wasn’t having it, she pressed her crest against his and said something sharp back.

This time Garrus caved into her, his arms finally rising from his knees to wrap around her smaller cowl. A quick glance at the other turians in the room showed both relief and sorrow. 

After a few moments, Sol withdrew from his grasp and pulled whatever the doctor had given her out of the pocket she’d stuffed it into. Her brother glared at it small cylinder in her hand, but tilted his head away from her. It was an injector of some sort, and she placed it against the softer hide of his neck before depressing the end. He faded quickly, his sister supporting him in her willowy arms as he slumped.

Adrien crossed the room when Solana called him, gingerly picking up his partner bridal style and he carried him to the waiting medical bed. The sniper was limp in his partner’s arms, fully sedated with whatever drug Solana had given him. Tiran set to work fixing the medical equipment as Garrus’ sister sat down beside him, her hand holding his.

Liara’s voice pulled him out of the fog, “We should go, John.” 

“Yeah…”

With a gentle tug he followed his financé out of the airlock, past the three concerned faces of the turian Blackwatch Agents, and out of the hospital to the shuttle where Joker was waiting for them. At the sombre expressions the pilot said nothing, only set course for the  _ Normandy _ . John hoped that Garrus’ family was able to help him, because he sure as hell couldn’t.

+-+-+-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May be taking a week off from updates, expect something new in December lovelies!


	27. Coming Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets come out of the woodwork and they're bound to land on someone's shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Missed you guys last week! Here's a nice long chapter to help sooth the wait time.
> 
> This chapter requires thanks be given to:  
> [ **Spicy_Gnome**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Spicy_Gnome/pseuds/Spicy_Gnome) for the constant prodding and assistance. And [**Kuraiummei**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuraiummei/pseuds/Kuraiummei) for the lovely driveby edits.
> 
> Also! Chapter soundtrack:  
> [ **Coming Apart by Red**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NmDFhGndy5U)

 

Castis arrived at Mnemosyne Memorial about four hours after his meeting with Corinthus and the Cluster Primarchs had ended. Trebia was high in the sky, a scorching hot day at its peak and without a cloud as far as he could see. Environmental repair teams had been working non-stop in the past months, the atmosphere becoming less murky all the time, especially when the winds blew in from the north instead of the west.

He was tired, but determined to soldier on. The gates to the hospital were staffed more thoroughly than usual. The security screening more intense to keep the media out, which the retired police officer in the old turian appreciated as much as the father in him did.

Not only did Castis want to see his son, but he needed to get statements for the investigation. He’d managed to buy some time for the Primarch and his Advisor, but they did need to provide personal accounts of the previous day’s events. 

There was also the matter of  the surviving assailant being held in the secure wing of the hospital until he was medically cleared to be transferred to the Military Police. Not that full health would be required, traitors to the Hierarchy didn’t live long whether they were allowed the tools of suicide for some small redemption… or not.

Although it was likely Primarch Fidele had something to do with the Sundowner, the ex-C-Sec investigator was determined to see that due process was followed and solid evidence acquired before the last assailant was out of his reach, just as he’d done while working for Citadel Security and before that in his years as a Military Police Officer under the Hierarchy. It was his duty to enforce the laws of his people, provide stability and order regardless of his personal stake in this specific case. 

A quick pitstop by his sons’ apartment had not only given him a chance to view the scene, but also to speak with the male who’d helped his sons. The building manager, an old soldier by the name of Freet, was more than happy to help him work through the events of the previous afternoon. He’d given his report to the officers that had been first on scene and taken care of securing the apartment for his tenants by turning off the stove, storing the nearly cooked meal and ensuring the locking mechanism engaged.

Castis had taken a few minutes to fetch some fresh clothing and basics for the pair. Considering neither of the were likely to be home that night, he thought it prudent. And from the father’s point of view, it felt like it was the least he could do to help them be more comfortable.

The reception area just inside the hospital held a single scavenger from the media, an asari. How they’d managed to sneak in was anyone’s guess. They attempted to get a statement from him, but the stoic turian brushed them off with practiced efficiency. He’d learned to handle the media a long time ago. It was like brushing the dust off of an old gun. 

Turian reporters were notoriously easy to get rid of, it was the humans you had to watch out for, they were ruthless when it came to getting information. Asari landed somewhere in the middle of the two, and a quick threat of arrest had this one running for the doors. The half amused tilt to his mandibles was enough to make the grey-plated male that sat at the reception desk laugh.

The elder male turned towards him and crossed the remaining few paces. “Any more of them hiding out?” he asked in a bored tone, reminiscent of his uniformed days as a Presidium patrol officer days where he’d spent more time shooing reporters than he had investigating crimes.

“None that I’m aware of sir. Thank you.”

He nodded, relaxing his shoulders slightly as he leaned into the countertop and took note of the receptionist’s nameplate. “Mr. Travid, was it? Would you be able to direct me towards the intensive care unit?”

“Oh…” Travid seemed surprised that he’d taken enough interest to find out his name. The receptionist always was. “It’s in the east wing, but you’ll need clearance to get in there Mr…”

“Vakarian,” Castis answered smoothly. 

The male shook his head and stood from behind the counter, “Of course. I apologise for not recognizing you sir.”

“Not at all,” his expression softened a little as he smiled. “You must meet hundreds in a day.”

He blew out a small breath of a laugh. “Not so many as that, Mr. Vakarian. Could I trouble you for your identification?” Travid held out a scanner to Castis and once the young male had finished checking on his credentials, the receptionist gave him a room number and wished him a good day.  

The stone-plated turian nodded politely and headed toward the elevators, the faintest hint of nerves turning his gizzard. He’d been able to stay focused on other tasks up until this point, but now the ever-present piece of his spirit that was Garrus’ worried father was having its say. Solana hadn’t updated him since the surgery finished, and though Tenn had sent a generalized report, that had been hours ago.

Castis sped his steps, turning to take the stairs instead of the elevator to rid himself of some of the excess energy. Once he reached the correct floor and while still within the relative privacy of the stairwell he composed himself, evening his breathing and smoothing his sub tones. He wiped a hand across his brow, his plates cooler now after the short walk in the sun before he’d come inside. It was too nice a day for the anxiety coursing through his veins; a nice enough day that his mate would’ve tried to convince him to leave work early to go sunning. The bittersweet memory made him smile.

When he reached the grey tiled hallway that led to the intensive care unit, he slowed. Finding his son’s room was easy enough, considering there were three black and red armored Blackwatch agents standing guard outside. One of whom he knew. 

“Security Chief Vakarian,” the one he recognized as a friend of his daughter’s greeted as he approached. She took a few steps away from the remaining two agents, waving him closer so that she could speak with him in a semi-private fashion.

“Agent Vok, good to see you.”

Her amber eyes closed as she nodded to him in thanks. “You as well, sir. Despite the circumstances.” She hummed an apologetic tone which he accepted. “There are a few things you should know before going in. It’s been quite the day thus far.”

“Go on,” Castis told her, voice forcibly calm as he kept on his investigator’s mask instead of the father’s.

“There was an altercation earlier, Commander Shepard was here to visit Advisor Vakarian. They spoke for a few minutes before the Advisor… he well…”

“Say what you must,” he encouraged, tensing imperceptibly at her hesitance.

“Right…” she nodded, apologetically. “Well he got angry, furious really. Almost primal? Threw medical equipment, would have hurt himself pretty bad if the Primarch and Sol… I mean Agent Vakarian… hadn’t of been there to calm him down.”

The male’s face softened at the minor slip. “It’s alright Nerys. I know you and Solana are friends. Tell me what you know.”  

“Well... I was standing in the intensive care room’s entryway. Keeping watch. Commander Shepard sat down and spoke with Garrus for a few minutes, everything was fine at first… then the Commander said something that upset him. First Garrus yelled, then he started ripping out his IV line. I called for his doctor and by the time he and Primarch Victus got inside he wouldn’t let anyone near him.”

It took the steel-eyed turian a few seconds to process all the information. “What about Solana?”

“She didn’t go in right away,” Vok explained. “She told me to stay outside where I couldn’t see what was happening. Commander Shepard left after she entered. I’m not great with human expressions… but he looked pretty shaken, sir.”

While his investigative mind whirred with everything he’d just been told, his expression was calm. “Thank you for telling me. I’d like to see them now.”

“Of course sir,” Nerys preceded him to the airlock, opening the door with a press against the door’s electronic panel. “Doctor Melandra has asked that all visitors wear sterile gloves and run the decontamination cycle.”

Castis nodded in acknowledgment and stepped inside. Though the exterior window had been darkened to preclude anyone from seeing in, the inbetween room did not have that feature. He could clearly see his children and their partners beyond the glass. Solana and Tiran were standing on one side of the bed, she was cuddled up to him while he worked.

Adrien was sitting on the opposing side of the bed in a standardized hospital chair, his elbows on his knees, chin resting on his hands, as he watched charcoal-plated male. He appeared lost in thought, and from what Vok had told him, it had been an eventful enough day to warrant such a reaction.

When the decontamination cycle finished, the father opened the sliding glass door and stepped inside with the bag of Adrien and Garrus’ things. He allowed concern to roll back into his sub tones and though he was still tight with anxiety, he let the rigidness out of his posture. At least until he’d confirmed that his children were well, the investigation could wait.

“Dad, you’re here.” Solana was the first to noticed him, she detangled herself from her partner and crossed the room to greet him. From the timbre of her voice, he knew much was wrong.

The stone-plated male pressed his crest to her temple and hummed comfort. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner, how is he?” Castis pulled away and nodded to the bed where his son slept. 

“Could be better,” Sol’s delicate mandibles pulled into her cheeks. “He had a sort of… panic attack? We had to sedate him.”

Behind her, Adrien dropped his face into his hands. A keen beginning to emanate from him for a few seconds before he forced it back down. His steel-blue eyes darted from his mated-son back to his daughter.

“What caused it?” he inquired softly.

Solana shook her head, her arms coming up to cross over her keel in a mild self-protection. 

Tiran noticed her hesitation and pulled away from his patient, having finished bandaging his arm. “Commander Shepard was here,” he explained in lieu of the others, stopping short to cough into his cowl before continuing on. “He told Adrien and Solana about Archangel. When Garrus found out, he had what I’m going to term as an explosive rage attack. Tore out his IV and sensors before tossing some of the medical equipment around. He didn’t so much calm down as became emotionally detached, wouldn’t allow anyone but Solana near him.”

“That…” Castis began before stopping, not actually knowing what he wanted to say quite yet.

“Has this happened before?” the doctor asked the room. Though there were undertones of concern in the charcoal turian’s deep, smoke damaged voice, his demeanor spoke of professionalism. His words were clipped and sure, almost clinical in his questioning. 

Initially, the ex-C-Sec investigator hummed a negative. However, a few more seconds of thought prompted a memory. “It doesn’t sound like the explosive part, but the emotional detachment I’ve seen a few times. A blank stare like he’s lost in his head.”

Tiran looked to Solana, prompting her. “No. Nothing like that. Like dad I’ve seen him zone out a few times, but no rage.”

The three of them looked at the, thus far silent, Primarch. “Once.” he offered.

“Can you describe the situation, Adrien? You don’t need to tell me the specifics if you’re uncomfortable with that.”

The slate-coloured male pulled himself up to his full height in the chair, hands dropping to his thighs and fists clenching. “Just before the war ended, first time we’d seen one another in a few weeks. We were discussing ruthless calculus, he’d just told me about his time on Omega and a few... other things that I’m not going to discuss.”

“And the emotional disconnect?”

“Frequently,” he admitted while turning his head away from his partner as though he felt like he was betraying Garrus by speaking. “It… it may have actually been twice. Yesterday was almost like a rage, but it was entirely controlled and focused on the attackers.”

Solana’s eyes swung from Adrien to the doctor, “Tiran… what’s going on?”

“I’m not a psychologist, Sol. I need confirmation from one before I can diagnose anything for certain.” She made to argue and he held up a hand, explaining what he could. “Your brother has post-traumatic stress disorder, that much is obvious. But the disease isn’t cut and dry, there are a number of different ways it can manifest.”

“And in my son?” Castis prompted.

Tiran sighed, reluctant to share the theory without more evidence. The investigator in Castis understood that, but the father didn’t want to. “From what I know of Garrus, I think he has a type of intermittent explosive disorder. It’s a near textbook case.”

“What does that mean?” the Primarch stood up, one hand reaching out to his partner but stopping before he touched his faceplate and dropping it lamely back to his side.

“It’s not exactly curable, but it is manageable. Support groups or therapy, medication might be a possibility, and changing environmental factors by reducing exposure to triggers, minimizing st-”

Adrien choked out a dark laugh, cutting Tiran off. He didn’t look away from Garrus as he explained himself, “If you were going to say minimizing stress? Then don’t finish that sentence.”

“Adrien-” 

“No Castis,” his bonded-son cut him off. “You know I’m right. He won’t even talk to you or I about it all. Today’s attack was because he didn’t want Solana thinking that he’s a monster. There’s no way he’s going to talk to a stranger about it.” he sliced his hand through the air in finality. 

“Not a stranger, no.” 

Blue and gold eyes snapped to the doctor. Three versions of  _ what? _ came at the tall, green-eyed male.

“Earlier, while I was finishing off the exam Garrus talked to me. He asked that I not say anything, but considering the circumstances I need to at least let you know that he spoke voluntarily to me.”

The Primarch’s voice edged in a growl, but he forced it down. “What about the rest of it? Medication? Reducing stress? How are we going to manage that? We just got through a Galactic War, Tiran. And I’m the Primarch, stress isn’t going anywhere.”

Castis couldn’t help but agree. It had been difficult enough to get his son on an eating schedule, and meds were still a challenge even all these months later.

“Hopefully? We can avoid anti-anxiety medication all together. Despite today being a setback, the secret is out in the open now. With the details out...”

Adrien made a noise of disagreement. “Did he tell you about anything besides Omega?” 

“Hastatim. The  _ Normandy.” _

“What about the  _ Normandy _ did he say?” the Primarch questioned. “Or more accurately who?”

Castis watched the exchange with rapt attention, the minor tells of relief when whatever Adrien was waiting for didn’t come. Whatever it was, his mated-son didn’t relax until Tiran fell silent again. Seeing the need to move the conversation along, he prompted the doctor. “How much longer does he need to be sedated?”

“Because of the trauma he inflicted on himself earlier, I’d like to keep him out through the night. I placed extremely delicate grafts into his shoulder to replace the hole left by the old cybernetic hub.” 

“Then perhaps you wouldn’t mind if I borrow Adrien,” his bonded-son hummed in understanding, looking completely exhausted as he forced himself away from his mate. Solana took his place at Garrus’ side while the pair headed for the door.

Castis led them away from the ICU, Adrien’s Watchers falling in place behind them as they went. It was a near ten minute walk from there to the secure wing of the hospital. The steel-eyed male brought the younger turian to one of the, for lack of a better term, interrogation rooms. It was the one used for family and victims, thus it contained a worn, yet comfortable looking turian-styled couch that was made of soft leather. A matching chair sat across from it with a low wooden kava table between them. 

A window was against the longest wall, overlooking the courtyard gardens from the third floor. They were in bloom this time of year, some of the daytime flowers were open and visible in an array of colours while others would be hidden until the twilight hours. The care taken to restore the gardens was just as thorough as that taken on the hospital itself. 

After offering the bag to the Primarch, he ushered him into the room before turning to the Watchers and requesting that one of them fetch kava and something to eat. He gave Adrien another few minutes before he entered and closed the door. As expected, he’d changed out of the day old scrubs. Looking a little more like himself as he stood at the window, staring out into the sunshine. Castis sat down in the single chair and waited patiently for Adrien to be ready.

“It’s obnoxiously beautiful out today,” the Primarch scoffed eventually, pushing himself off the window ledge to turn and face his bonded-father, heavy mandibles fallen loose in a frown.

“I won’t disagree with you,” his right mandible titled into a slight smile at the attempted humor. The Security Chief pulled up his omnitool interface, setting it to record. “When you’re ready.”

Adrien sighed, rounding the couch to sit across from Castis. Once he was situated, and without prompting, he stated his name and rank for the record before beginning a detailed summary of the attack. Pausing occasionally for the investigator to ask questions, going further into depth where required. An entirely professional account.

From the words the attackers used, to the clothing they wore. It was a skill born of years of practice and attention to detail despite the high stress of the situation. 

They broke off when the door pinged. It didn’t take long for Adrien to recount the previous afternoon, and the kava was welcomed into his waiting palms when Castis offered it to him. The investigator shut down the recording function on his tool once he’d resettled in the chair. They ate in silence, the elder male giving his mated-son time to recoup before he switched from professional to personal.

“There’s something besides Archangel, isn’t there?” Castis asked around the lip of his takeaway cup, his steel-blue eyes intent on the taller male.

Adrien nodded, but refused to meet his eyes.

So the father continued, “He told me about the Omega years after he’d been released from the hospital on the Citadel. Not everything, mind you. Mostly he told me about his squad, the betrayal, the highlights of his work. I’ve researched on my own since then, I know what happened.”

“I haven’t,” storm finally met steel. Though outwardly Adrien showed no sign of the anguish he was feeling, those eyes said it all. “I had an idea, and I thought that was enough. It wasn’t.”

The Primarch stood, pacing to the window more for something to do than for any real purpose. He stared blankly into the middle distance, Trebia’s rays casting shadows over the angles of his stern face. In that moment the burnout was visible. The way his eyelids appeared too heavy to keep open, the break in his usually perfect posture.

Castis leaned forwards in his chair and placed his empty cup down softly. There was a story coming together in his head, an explanation. Something he’d never shared with a soul, not even his mate or the Spirits themselves. It was weighty. A truth that Garrus deserved, even if he wasn’t the first to be told. Perhaps it was best that Castis told his son’s mate first. It might help.

“Adrien?”

It took a moment for the taller male to respond, he did so with a mild hum and he gave his attention over to the Vakarian Clan leader. The haze lifted a little at the steel-eyed male’s serious expression, his light-grey mandibles a hard set line against his jaw.

“Come sit,” Castis gestured to the couch. “I need to tell you something that I’ve never told anyone else. It’s about Garrus. And why he is who he is.”

The clean-white colony markings picked up a few stray lines of sunlight as his face tilted in question. He complied, warily. Dropping heavy onto the thick brown leather, storm meeting steel willingly this time, asking a thousand questions all at once while remaining silent with both sets of vocal chords.

Castis attempted to start speaking twice. Getting no further than the first few words before cutting off. His sub harmonics wavered with shame. Not shame for his son, but of himself. He couldn’t hold Adrien’s gaze and turned away, his jaw locking. Everything in the moment uncharacteristic of the turian he was. His mistakes had caused his son nothing but pain...

“Talk to me.” Adrien’s voice broke him out of his own head. It wasn’t an order or a plea. Just a simple request, filled with the desire to help and the need to know.

“I’m the reason he became Archangel.”

It wasn’t what the Primarch had expected him to say, if the confusion he expressed was any indicator. The taller male made to say something, but Castis cut him off with a small shake of his head. He’d elaborate. He had to.

“Ten years ago, when Garrus was eighteen and ju-”

“What?” Adrien interrupted him, a baffled expression on his face that was entirely unrelated to the topic at hand. He shook his head after a moment he muttered, “Nevermind. Go on.” Castis complied but made a mental note to figure out whatever that confusion was later on.

The elder male cleared his throat and began anew. “He was just finishing his Hierarchy Military Policing training with a special tactics qualification when he was called up for a Spectre assessment.” A sad smile crossed his face at the memory, “He was so excited when he called home to tell his mother and I. But I was angry, ordered him to decline.

“Despite my threats, he went through the assessment. The interview, medical, practical and academic testing. He passed everything with honors and was bound for training… he didn’t make it a week before he was discharged.”

+-+-+-

Listening to Castis speak about Garrus’ past was jarring. It wasn’t a perspective that Adrien had much experience with, nor was this a story that he was familiar with by his mate’s own words. As he sat watching his mated-father worked his way through the words in his mind before he spoke, he couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Though the male was ever cognisant of how he phrased things, the hesitance was new. 

At the natural lull, the Primarch prompted him for more. “Why?”

“I was working at C-Sec at the time, had a lot of connections in high places. I intentionally called in favors and had Garrus expelled.”

The Primarch felt his jaw lock, that hadn’t been what he’d expected. He wasn’t able to speak just yet, not knowing how his voice would sound he only gestured for Castis to continue.

“I did it because of my opinion of Specters. I believed that they were a corrupt, lawless menace,” the stone-plated male huffed an angered sigh. “Went talon to talon with more of them more times than I can count working in security. And not only that… but I knew the survival rates. The likelihood of Garrus making it to thirty was minimal at best. I ruined his dream of becoming a Council Agent because of my own fears and some petty statistics.”

Nodding in understanding, Adrien dragged his talons through his fringe as he searched for words. “I don’t know what I’d have done in your place, Castis. If it had been Tarquin?” his voice was steady, but the still fresh sorrow of losing his own son weighed on him. He’d been a father, and had sacrificed his own child for the war effort. Looking back... if he could have prevented his death by removing him from officer’s school years ago then he might’ve done it too.

Castis picked up the story when the younger male fell silent. “Garrus came home to the  _ maldis _ for a few days while he was waiting for a new posting. Barely said two words to anyone, less if he could avoid it. He thought it was his own fault. That he’d done something to anger one of his instructors or failed some unknown standard. They never told him why he was thrown out.”

“But he eventually went back to Spectre training… after taking down Saren.” Adrien reminded the older male. “Didn’t he?”

“It’s-” Castis cut off, taking a sharp breath “-the years inbetween. Hastatim. His skills were perfect for it. Military Police snipers were, are, sought after and his marksmanship scores were among the highest ever seen in training. When he was called to service, the Clan argued against it. I pulled every favor I had on Palaven, but it wasn’t enough. Not when Garrus didn’t think he deserved better. Not when he willingly accepted the posting.”

Adrien’s gaze dropped to the floor. He’d seen first hand what the urban warfare squads were capable of on Solregit. As a General he’d ordered battalions into hot zones to snuff out resistance cells. The kind of turian who usually ended up there were always messed up in some way; criminals who were of more use serving the Hierarchy rather than rotting in a penal colony, turians with deranged mental aptitudes or ones who were deemed safety risks.

_ ‘A benevolent way to end their lives.’ _ Was how the service had been described to him.  _ ‘Honor reclaimed in victory.’ _

Before now, the Primarch had never understood how his mate had ended up there. Beyond his skill, he was kind hearted. Disliked killing, despite being excellent at it.

“I let him think that he failed,” Castis admitted in a solemn tone. “When in reality it was my failure to trust that Garrus wouldn’t become corrupt as a Spectre that caused him to suffer. In a little more than two years they beat the heart out of my son and replaced it with ruthlessness.”

Adrien pulled his eyes off the tiled floors and watched Castis Vakarian breakdown through his last few words. Anguish and apology and hopelessness rang out in the sunlit room. The male’s shoulders were rounded in, making his spine appear to bow, his mandibles were pulled in so tightly to his face that the younger turian could almost hear them creak. In all the time the Primarch had known him, he’d never seen his composure break, until now.

“By the time I managed to get him transferred to C-Sec, it was too late. He’d broken under the weight of hundreds of bullets. Forever changed.”

+-+-+-+-

The next morning, Solana sat in her brother’s hospital room alone. Watching the slow rise and fall of his chest as he continued to sleep. Tiran had stopped the sedatives first thing that morning, yet Garrus hadn’t woken up. Her partner assured her that he would wake gradually before leaving for his rounds, it might just take a couple of hours.

So she waited.

Adrien stayed as long as he could. Even spent the night in Garrus’ room on a cot that Pelen, one of Tiran’s brothers, had managed to find for him. But avoiding the office any longer wasn’t an option for him either, Corinthus could only manage without him for so long unplanned. Between meetings and reports and fallout from the attack, he was quickly drowning.

The young Vakarian scion had departed with her father and partner after the doctor finished his workday. Returning in the early hours with Tiran in tow. Despite Castis wanting to see Garrus, he’d been disallowed from the room by Adrien. Whatever had occurred during their discussion after her brother’s attack had left him in a sour mood. Quiet, thoughtful, and just a touch angry.

It was the first time she’d seen her bonded-sibling act in such a way. He had always seemed so put together in front of her. The breaking turian of the past two days wasn’t an accurate representation of him, and she prayed to the Spirits that it would be short-lived. That her birth-brother would come back to them, healthy and whole.

Standing up and stretching, the Blackwatch agent let out a long sigh. Her arms pulled taut above her head, and she cracked her neck with practiced grace. 

Her smile was fond as she regarded the bedridden turian, clean bandaging and scars alike. A blanket was pulled up to his mid-keel, which she adjusted and smoothed flat for something to do with her hands. Garrus didn’t react.

His tawny-brown wrists had been bound to the railings of the bed after Adrien had left for the morning and the sedatives were removed.  _ A safety precaution _ . One that Sol was furious about, but left stand because of the fear of another episode like the day before. Tiran had left her with another dose of the fast acting drug as well… just in case. 

She hated that too.

Taking a few paces away, she picked up the bag she’d brought with her and pulled out a ration bar for herself. It was one of the dextro-chocolate ones that she favored, it had tiny bits of fruit in it as well, and likely a higher sugar content than was strictly necessary. Regardless, they were in her opinion the best kind.

The wrapper crinkled in the silence as she opened the package and sat back down. No more than a bite in, a sleepy sub vocal hum of question came from the bed. 

_ ‘Of course he’d wake to food,’ _ she laughed internally as she purposefully made a little more noise with the wrapper and waved it between them to waft the smell towards him. 

“Gonna share?” Garrus asked in a deep gravelly tone, ice-blue eyes fogged with sleep and blinking away the tiredness.

Solana rolled her eyes. “Now… why would I do that?” she threw back with just a hint of snark and a whole lot of affection.

The sniper blew out a huff of amusement and attempted to raise his arm, only to find it secured down. Humming a calming tone, the dove-grey female pressed her hand into his. She felt his immediately tighten on hers, grasping for the lifeline. 

“S’going on, Sol?” He didn’t look her in the eye, instead staring at their hands. His eyes were wide with fear and the monitors over him betrayed his discomfort further as the heart rate rose. Though he held her hand, he pulled against the restraints. A few sharp tugs, and a tremor that he couldn’t stop. 

He was freaking out, and she was freaking out because he was. It wasn’t a good scenario. Solana’s free hand wrapped around the sedative in her pocket, the fact she was considering using it so quickly made her feel sick to her stomach.  _ ‘I… I have to make this stop.’ _

“Do you remember yesterday?” the Agent questioned to grab his attention, at his hesitant nod she continued attempting levity. “Doc was worried you’d do that again, mess up all his hard work.”

“Right,” her brother drew in a breath to steady himself. 

Solana smiled, letting out a long whoosh of air as her hidden hand released its hold on the sedative. It didn’t look like she was going to need it as he eased. “That’s better G. I’m right here. You’re safe.”

“Yeah, ok.”

Silence took over as the willowy turian relaxed into the chair again, thankful that he was calm and accepting of the bindings for the moment. Before yesterday, she’d never seen Garrus panicked; not when he heard their mother was sick, not when the Reapers showed up on their doorstep. She didn’t like it. In fact? She hated it.

The Blackwatch Agent searched for something to fill the void, “It’s temporary. The nerve grafts just need time to heal.”

Garrus nodded and reduced the pressure on her hand a bit.

“I’m sorry Sol,” he hummed an apologetic tone as his still foggy eyes shut and he adjusted himself a little on the bed, shoving up a little higher on the incline with his hips and feet. “I uh…” he began before stopping to draw out a self-depreciating sigh, “I’m just... not really at my best right now.”

“It’s not your fault, G.” She attempted a smile, it came out more morose than she’d hoped. “I’m just glad you’re alright… mostly?”

The sniper blew out a small chuckle at her attempted dry humor. “Mostly.”

He might’ve said more but his stomach chose that moment to complain, groaning impatience at the proximity of food. Most turians lost their appetite while recovering from anesthesia, before now that included her brother. However… this time was different, despite it only being a ration bar, he must have felt starved after spending literal months purposefully overeating to gain weight. The swing from thousands of calories a day to almost nothing a drastic enough change to override the probable nausea.

“Hungry?” 

Ice-blue eyes found her own, a browplate raised as if to ask, ‘ _ what kind of question is that?’ _ . She laughed and broke off a piece of the bar for him. Without hesitation she gave the bite sized portion to him and he hummed appreciation as he swallowed. He made a bit of a face, mandibles pulling into his cheeks at the sweetness.

“Why do you like these ones?” he inquired while greedily eating the next bite she offered. “They’re basically just sugar.”

Solana laughed while biting off her own chunk of protein bar, “That’s exactly why. Always had more of a sweet palate than you.” 

The Agent stood and fetched her bag from by the door. Returning to the bed she dropped it beside her feet and fished out another bar, one of the ones he liked best, and a container of water. Solana repeated the process with the second bar, and refused his request to undo the restraints. Citing that he should appreciate her more. Her brother had given her a frustrated groan but accepted the fledgling’s treatment all the same. 

In a way Sol wanted to know why he was so fussy about the restraints. She knew that she wouldn’t have appreciated them if it had been her strapped down, that much was for certain, but she would have accepted the explanation had it been Garrus giving it to her. Yesterday’s Archangel revelation made that line of questioning not seem like such a good idea, so she dismissed her curiosity for later.

Garrus looked to be feeling a little better and more awake by the time they finished with the food and water. So Sol dropped the bottle back into her bag and retook his hand. 

“You uh… want to talk about it?” she asked, a bit hesitant while staring at his feet instead of his face. “It’s ok if you don’t… or don’t trust me with it... I just…”

“Sol,” he said by way of stopping her. Her sky-blue eyes snapped to his, the intensity of his gaze making it impossible to look away. “It’s not that… I do trust you. I just didn’t want you to think less of me,” the older turian explained. “It’s not something I’m particularly proud of.”

“Garr-” the light-grey turian began.

“No,” he snapped, squeezing her hand once before softening. “Just… just let me talk ok?”

Solana nodded, her mandibles pulling taut against her cheeks as she regarded him. Verbally, she said nothing. But her sub vocal hum of support was more than enough for Garrus to know that she loved him regardless. He rubbed his thumb along the curve of her talon, watching his hand on hers for a moment longer before restarting.

“There’s a lot of me that wanted to tell you about Omega, but the rest didn’t want you to know, wanted to somehow protect you from that dark spot in my life. And not only that… but while I was off playing at being a hero, you were taking care of mom… I should have been here. With you and dad. With mom...”

He cut himself off with a keen, his eyes closing as he turned away for a moment to pass through the sorrow. Once he’d steeled himself he let go of a breath and looked back at her. 

“I did a lot of terrible things, things I’m not proud of, but despite that, I did help a lot of people. My team and I cleaned up Omega until we were betrayed by one of our own. Some of it was my own fault. He wanted out. I just wanted to keep going. Couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t. Not till we were done.” The sniper pulled lightly against the restraints, when he remembered he couldn’t move his hands he instead shook his head and dropped his shoulders down. “When the mercs were through with us? We were done.”

Silence reigned for a few minutes. The eerie quiet of the intensive care room, unbroken by anything save breathing. Garrus left Solana to process what he’d said, attempting to relax into the bed and failing as he jostled himself to get comfortable before giving up. 

Eventually Solana’s free hand rose from her lap and she trailed a gentle line across the scarred side of his face.

“Is that where these came from?” 

The elder sibling tilted his face further into her hand, humming a positive reply and appreciation for the comfort she offered. “I’m sorry, Sol. For all of it. If I could go back-”

“No,” she cut him off sharply. It was her turn to speak over him, stop him from depreciating himself anymore than he already had. “If you could go back, I’d expect you to do the same damn thing brother. Despite it all… we wouldn’t be here without you. Mom would still have died. The Reapers would still have come. You might never have met Adrien, nor me Tiran.”

Her talons tightened around his hand, and she stood to press her crest against his. 

“I hate what happened, but there’s no way I’d ever hate you.”

+-+-+-+

It was late in the evening before Garrus managed to get a moment alone. He stood on shaky legs in the tiny bathroom of his intensive care room. Finally allowed to get up long enough to relieve himself on his own. He felt pathetic, nauseous and dizzy from a mere ten steps. But at least he was alone.

Tiran had been back to check him over just before Adrien returned from the office. The doctor had been quite happy with his progress, the Primarch had been had been furious about the bindings, as mad as Garrus had ever seen him. He hadn’t gotten more than a few paces into the room before noticing them and proceeding to tear them off. 

While the Advisor had been grateful to be rid of the leather restraints, seeing his mate rage wasn’t what he’d needed at that moment. Not when his head was pounding and the new nerves in his arm were making it burn and ache. All he wanted was comfort and quiet, but at the moment he had neither.

Adrien was in a mood, banishing the other two from the room once Garrus had closed himself into the only private space he was allowed. He heard the older male’s back hit the wall beside the door and the fabric of his tunic slide against the wall as he sat down on the floor to wait. The sniper felt a little bad about leaving him there, but Adrien needed a minute to cool down as much as he did.

_ ‘Speaking of cooling down…’ _

The bathroom was cold, a tiny grey-tiled box. Toilet, sink and shower all within two square meters. Not even large enough for him to lie down in if he’d wanted to, though he thought about sitting. That he could have managed on the shower floor. It would have been too melodramatic, so instead, Garrus stood over the sink, staring at his bandaged face in the mirror. Which, admittedly, wasn’t much better.

The scars on the right side of his face were familiar, the pockmarks and charred hide reminders of his past. But now the lines were smoother, made less harsh by a delicate hand. Voss’ hand. However much he disliked the doctor, she did good work. The sniper wanted to see the rest of it, his good hard shook slightly as it rose. With fear or anticipation? He wasn’t sure.

The bandages covering his shoulder were first to go. Replacement plating sat in place of the durable, quick prosthetics that Karin and Miranda had installed years ago, they were still slightly weepy at the edges with pus and blood, but otherwise they were beautiful. Once they healed, the ex-vigilante didn’t even think he’d be able to tell the difference between his original plates and the new ones. He took the time to swipe a clean towel over them before moving on.

Next were the numerous smaller bandages that covered a variety of old scars from knives and bullets long past. All the plating had been repaired with care, and the marks he’d wanted to keep were still there. Including the blade wound on his thigh from the day Tarquin died.

Garrus met his own eyes in the mirror, steeling himself for the last scar to be revealed. A single deep breath was all he allowed himself before he began peeling back the bandage covering his left cheek, from under his eye to his jaw. His ice-blue eyes shut as he pulled at the adhesive, the too familiar sound of the fabric-like material pulling from his plates unnerving. He dropped the used bandage into the sink with the rest and forced his eyes open, what he saw was a smooth faceplate. The fissure that had once nearly bisected his cheek was entirely gone, the only remnant was his missing colony paint.

Save the bandages from the surgery, that Tiran had explicitly stated that he needed to leave alone, he was stark naked. The constant reminder of Urdnot Wrex removed from view.

It was both liberating and devastating.

No matter how hard Garrus had tried, he couldn’t forget the old krogan. His first love. Staring at himself in the mirror he realised he never would. Not with him dead, nor with the scars he left healed. He didn’t know how to feel about it just yet, it wasn’t that he wanted to forget Wrex, but he didn’t want to remember him everyday either. He drew out a sigh, pressing his crest to the cool glass and closing his eyes against his reflection.

_ ‘Emotions are hard,’ _ he thought to himself with a self-deprecating chuckle.

“Garrus?” the sound of his mate’s voice was muffled through the door. The sniper turned towards it, he could hear the pain in his love’s tones. “Can we talk? Please.”

Adrien was always polite with him, but he rarely said please. The fact he used the word now, meant he was getting desperate. The pale grey turian’s mandibles faltered as he made for the door, dropping into a frown as his hand reached the panel to open the barrier between them. He hadn’t wanted to cause the older male any more heartache. 

When he stepped outside of the bathroom, his eyes fell on the Primarch. He was still sitting on the floor in his suit, looking altogether exhausted, white-painted face in his palms.

“I’d like that,” Garrus replied softly, reaching his good arm down to his mate. “But not on the floor. Not sure I’d make it back up.”

The huff of an almost laugh from his partner eased his mind a little. Adrien took his hand and didn’t so much use him as support as he did balance. Almost none of his weight was transferred to the younger male as he stood.

Their eyes met for only a moment before the golden pair drifted across pale grey plates, for the first time seeing the changed visage of his lover. Without pausing, his talons trailed along after his eyes. Smoothing across new plate and hide.

Mouths met next. Tender, almost chaste, licks and nips spread across the landscape. Adrien carefully walked Garrus backwards to the bed. Slow and meticulous with the steps as he was with his talons and his teeth.

Garrus’ own hands were clumsy, but desire to feel his mate’s plates against his own spurred him on. He managed to unclasp Adrien’s tunic by the time they’d made it to the bed and he pushed the fabric down his arms. The elder male let him go for only a few seconds, long enough to pull a curtain around the bed that Garrus hadn’t yet noticed, and drop his jacket to the chair at the bedside.

“I just want to hold you,” the stormy eyed male breathed into Garrus’ neck as he stood between his muscled thighs. “Is that alright?”

The sniper hummed an affirmative tone, sliding his talons across the bare expanse of Adrien’s back as they moved to lie down together on the too narrow bed. It was easily large enough for one, but with a second fully grown turian it was tight. Garrus made himself comfortable, laying on his back with the pillows arranged to support his fringe, while Adrien curled around him on his side, one arm behind the injured turian’s back and the other left free to roam.

“Don’t think I’m up for more anyways,” he admitted once they were cozied up together. 

His mate rumbled a soothing note as he ran a hand lightly along his fringe, the gentle touch was calming even if it didn’t help his headache much. Once the sniper’s breathing had slowed and his eyes drifted shut, that same hand trailed down his scarred cheek and the thumb traced his mandible. He could feel Adrien shift against him, bringing his crest in contact with his own temple and allowing his chin to rest on the sniper’s good shoulder.

“Still have a headache?” 

Garrus leaned into the touch, voice barely more than a whisper as he replied. “A bit. Tiran said it’d start getting better tomorrow. Feel like I shouldn’t complain all things considered.”

“I’d rather you tell me, love.” Though the words were gentle, there were more implications than a simple want to know. The depth of emotion running through Adrien’s voice enough to make his own chest tight with heartache. 

An apologetic tone emanated from his chest, in all honesty Garrus had wanted to tell his mate about the constant pain, the lack of sensation it was just…  _ hard _ . “I didn’t know how... and it wasn’t as though there was anything you could have done about it.”

“You’re probably right,” Adrien agreed, much to Garrus’ surprise, while he ghosted his talons down the newly repaired limb. The sniper drew in a breath, his arm was over sensitive and reacted immediately to the gentle treatment. “That hurt?”

“N...no…” he all but moaned. “S’good.”

Adrien rumbled in approval and kept up the sweet torture. Garrus wasn’t aware that such a light caress could feel quite so wonderful. The simple pleasure of being touched and feeling his mate’s solid weight against him eased his mind and relieved the tension that had been building between the two of them.

They laid in comfortable silence until their stress levels dropped to a more manageable level. The younger male’s shoulders softening as the elder’s breathing evened and slowed.

“I thought I was going to die in that alley,” the slate-grey male confessed as he kept up the calming motion of his hand. Almost as though it was relaxing him as much as it was the receiver. “I’d stopped in at the café and found us some of that maccha tisane you like, got some  _ ntónats _ too-” he let out a half amused breath, “-thought we’d have some time for games. I was rather mistaken it seems.”

Ice-blue eyes opened to find their mate, “When Freet called I thought he’d hit the call button accidently or needed me to help him fix the generator again. I barely thought to grab my rifle before I was out the door. Thought I was going to lose you.”

“I’ve been a soldier for nearly fifty years, and never in my life had I been so afraid of dying. I didn’t want to leave you, I don’t. But then you were there, saving me again.”

Garrus tilted his head in confusion, “Again?”

Nodding into his shoulder, Adrien curled in tighter. “After Tarquin. I considered doing the noble thing, it was my fault the ninth platoon perished. My orders killed them. I should have removed myself, left the Command to someone more appropriate. I nearly did.”

Though the Advisor knew his Primarch had suffered after the loss of his son, he hadn’t realised it had been so dire. The knowledge that if he’d rebuffed the elder male a year ago that he would have likely carried out the suicide made him grip onto his mate and pull him into his chest. He didn’t have words to argue, despite how wrong he thought Adrien was, there would be no convincing him otherwise. 

“You made the right choice, Adrien. We won.” He told him instead, the choice to live and lead despite his mistake had been the best option. Not just for him, but for the entire galaxy. Taking the time to find a new Primarch and risk them not agreeing to unify would have been akin to losing the krogan alliance in the first place. 

Garrus’ hand found Adrien’s and he squeezed it, holding his eyes, as he continued. “And… not only that, but I sincerely doubt I would have made it through the war without you. Even if I had? I wouldn’t have survived the trip back to Sol. I’d have given up.”

The slate-grey male seemed to share the opinion that he wouldn’t be able to change Garrus’ mind. So instead, he just held on and nuzzled into his shoulder. Sharing comfort until the darker moment passed.

Eventually, Adrien pulled away far enough to catch the younger male’s eyes with his own, he ran his hand back up his arm until he was able to hold his cheek. “There’s so much I don’t know about you, Garrus.”

“Where should I start?” he asked after leaning forwards to touch their crests together for a moment, a soft smile pulling at his mouth.

Adrien backed off a little to watch his face, mandibles wavering in embarrassment that seemed out of place. “This is a stupid question… but you are 34 aren’t you?”

His head cocked to the side, the question taking him by surprise. “In standard years, yeah.” He thought about it for a moment, translating the years in his head. “I’m 28 in Palavani ones, why?”

“Spirits, forgive me.” The Primarch replied, dropping his forehead down to rest on Garrus’ again with a slight thunk as plate met plate. “I’m more of a nest robber than I thought.”

The sniper couldn’t help but laugh, despite the headache, despite the weight of the last topic. He couldn’t think of anything in that moment that was funnier than this little misunderstanding. “I feel like I’m 34 if that helps?” he offered once he’d calmed down.

“No,” Adrien groaned in mock indignation. “Should never have trusted Vega to give me the right answer. I just accepted it without thinking you’d have been using standard.”

“Sorry?” he said with a slight chuckle, not quite able to hold in his amusement. “Well… how old are you? I mean… I know you’re not as old as my dad but...”

“62 Palavani years.”

“Oh…” Garrus felt his neck grow a little warm as it tinged blue. It wasn’t that it bothered him. The age difference between him and Wrex had been much, much greater and even the one between him and Lantar had been a solid 20 years. It was more that he’d never actually stopped to consider it. “Would knowing have changed your mind?” he asked hesitantly.

“No,” Adrien replied firmly. “It wouldn’t have changed a thing. What about you?”

Garrus didn’t answer right away, instead pressed their mouths together and shared Reverie with his partner. A slow thorough exploration of each other until the tension had dropped from Adrien’s spine. “It might surprise you,” he began in a teasing tone. “But I do believe that I have thing for older males.” Adrien chuckled at the self-depreciating joke, carefully nuzzling their crests together again. 

They spent the next few hours discussing their lives before meeting one another. The happier times and the terrible ones. From fledgling years and beyond. By the time they were done, there were no great dark secrets between them. And that was truly liberating. 

Stories about Hastatim and Archangel flowed in with the better days on the  _ Normandy _ , at C-Sec and basic training. There were mentions of his past relationships from the recon scout he’d met at basic to Wrex and Lantar. The litany of names etched into both his mind and his visor were explained and remembered. 

When Garrus needed time, Adrien would join in with stories of his own. From his own dark spots during the Relay 314 Incident to the separatist uprising on Solregit. Along with brighter notes when he met and bonded Kalla, to watching his son grow up. 

+-+-+-+

Neither of them had solid voices by the time they finished talking. Garrus’s voice was hoarse from overuse after so long asleep, and Adrien’s was just tired from the weight of the day.

The Primarch held onto his mate as he drifted off to sleep in his arms. His own mind too busy for rest just yet. So instead he watched Garrus’ chest rise and fall, eyes drifting over the new lines of his face to memorize them. The scars had grown on him over the past year, it was strange seeing his partner without half of them. They’d become apart of the landscape, so to speak. 

He’d been enraptured by the sniper’s stories, and conflicted about repeating what Castis had told him. His bonded-father had trusted him with the information, unsure if he should share it with Garrus or not. While Adrien believed that his mate had a right to know, he wasn’t sure if now was the proper time to share it. Not when they’d made so much progress over the course of the past few hours. 

Sighing, he brushed his talons along his lover’s pale grey fringe, making the sleeping male press into the contact with a contented little sigh of his own.

The longer he kept the truth to himself, the more likely Garrus would believe him a traitor or a coward. The more likely they’d damage not only his mate’s relationship with his father, but their own bond as well. The more likely any progress his love made would disappear in the time it took to blink an eye.

Castis had kept quiet for a decade. Allowing his own son to think himself a failure. That secret becoming as much apart of Garrus’ personality as his dry humor and awkwardness. That fact made Adrien inconsolably angry, and there was no easy way to remedy it because the more time they kept the secret… the more time they had to help Garrus stabilize himself. The greater their ability to help him settle Archangel into his personality instead of trying to stuff it away in a dark corner of his mind.

Without an answer, he was beginning to understand more and more what Garrus had meant earlier when he tried to explain his feelings after the incident with Lantar. 

_ “It's so much easier to see the world in black and white. But grey? I don't know what to do with grey…” _

Adrien didn’t know either.

+-+-+-+

The next morning, Garrus sat alone in his room, propped up on an incline with numerous pillows piled to support him. His omnitool was open on his arm, the haptic interface spreading its orange glow over his pale plates as he stared at the contact list. The sniper was trying to decide how to apologise to his best friend. Shepard hadn’t deserved the outburst, and he wanted to clear the air.

Like the previous day, Adrien had left early for work which left the Advisor in the capable hands of his sister and her partner. Solana was quite happy to sit with him and read through reports on a datapad while he slept the better part of the morning. He and his mate had, admittedly, stayed up too late talking. It had been necessary, but that wasn’t a substitute for proper rest.

Tiran had performed another follow-up exam once he’d woken up. Voss had joined him this time, and the pair of doctors were impressed with his progress. The midnight-toned female even managed to be civil for the duration of the check-up, which Garrus had appreciated. 

They’d been pleased enough to begin the discharge paperwork and were planning to send him home to the Vakarian  _ maldis _ instead of keeping him sequestered in the hospital. Both had agreed that he didn’t need to remain in the cleanroom, and considering Garrus would be staying in a home full of doctors and medical staff they’d deemed it safe enough to let him leave the hospital.

When the haptic interface blinked out after too much inactive time, Garrus sighed and rubbed his free hand along the length of his fringe. “I should get this over with…” he hummed into the empty room. The request went through almost immediately.

_ {Connection request sent - Live chat open} _

_ Trueshot: Hey Shepard, have a minute to talk? _

_ Bioticgod: I think that’s my line… _

_ Trueshot: Heh. Suppose it is. _

_ {Video chat requested - Accept?Y/N} _

_ {Request Accepted} _

The sniper’s omnitool took a moment to connect, but once it had the dark screen was replaced with the familiar backdrop of John’s cabin on the  _ Normandy _ . The human in question was sitting in the centre of the frame on the couch, the display case full of model ships behind him.

_ “Garrus, is that you?”  _ the Commander asked, looking a little surprised with his eyes widening and nostrils flaring. Humans were easy to read in general, but reading John was usually an artform. It had to have been real surprise on his friend’s face for it to be so visible.

He huffed a laugh, his free hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, they even gave me a mirror this time to make sure.”

_ “Still might need to slap a little more face paint on there,” _ he teased with a wry grin, probably remembering the mirror comment from years ago after Omega.

“If I do that, then you’d really be out of luck at the bar.” 

John shrugged, shaking his head in amusement. _ “You happy?” _

His hand moved from the back of his neck to rub the smooth plate on his face. He was still getting used to the feeling of it under the pads of his fingers as he slid them from under his eye down his cheek to his jaw. “Going to take some getting used to, but yeah. It’s a good change.”

_ “Good,” _ The Commander agreed with a nod before going silent, his deep blue eyes watching Garrus’ own. He drew out a long sigh, mouth losing the smile in favor of a frown.  _ “I wanted to apologise for the other day…” _

Garrus shook his head. “Now you’re stealing my line. You were just trying to help.”

_ “It wasn’t my story to tell, G.” _

“I shouldn’t have exploded like that regardless,” his head unconsciously pulled the the side in submission, exposing his throat. “Haven’t been in a good headspace and I took it out on you.”

When John responded, Garrus could hear the apology in his voice.  _ “Don’t do that Garrus, blame me for this one. I pushed too far telling your sister, you didn’t deserve that. You’ve never been anything but a good friend to me. Followed me into hell too many times to count. I fucked it up, alright?” _

“Shep…”

_ “No,”  _ he argued, but Garrus tried again a little firmer this time.

“Seriously, stop for a minute. It’s done. I should have told her myself, should have told Adrien more a long time ago. I got a chance to talk to both of them yesterday. We’re good. Better.” He paused a moment to let that sink in before finishing, “I wanted to make sure we are too.”

_ “Yeah, Garrus. We always were.” _

The turian relaxed at his friend’s agreement. “Are you ah… still in orbit? Or...” Shepard nodded, encouraging him to continue. “Well, if you don’t mind putting that envirosuit back on you’re welcome to come visit for real this time.”

_ “Yeah. I’d like that a lot.” _

“I’ll send you the coordinates for the  _ maldis _ . I’m headed there soon.”

_ “We’ll see you there, G. And... thanks.” _

“Anytime, Shepard.” 

_ {Chat disconnected. User Trueshot offline.} _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I make no actual promises... but next week's chapter should be happier than this one. 
> 
> Also, here's Garrus' timeline for the curious. Remember a turian year is 14 human months, and that adds up pretty quickly over time!  
> 2153 Born (0)  
> 2170 Start basic (17 human, 15 turian)  
> 2174 Joins Hasistim (21 human, 19 turian)  
> 2177 Joins C-Sec (24 human, 21 turian)  
> 2179 Makes Detective junior grade (26 human, 22 turian)  
> 2180 Full Detective (27 human, 23 turian)  
> 2183 ME1 (28 human, 24 turian)  
> 2183-85 Omega (29-31 human, 25-27 turian)  
> 2185 ME 2 (32 human, 27 turian)  
> 2186 ME3 (33 human, 28 turian)
> 
> Much love for all my readers out there. VV


	28. Sound of Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silence comes to an end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have but one note: Blame yourselves. 
> 
> Thank you [**Spicy_Gnome**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Spicy_Gnome/pseuds/Spicy_Gnome) For the beta work on parts 1/2. Part 3 is unedited.
> 
> Chapter Soundtrack: [**Sound of Silence covered by Disturbed**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u9Dg-g7t2l4)

 

“Garrus…” A soft feminine voice pulled him from his dream, he grunted and rolled away from the sound. Trying to get back to wherever he’d just been. But the speaker was persistent, “Time to wake-up Garrus.”

His sleepy disgruntled moan of _noooo_ was ignored.

There was a laugh before the nest dipped beside him and he felt a solid weight against his back. Ice-blue eyes narrowed as he began to roll over to see just who had the audacity to not only wake him, but to blatantly disregard his personal space. _‘This isn’t funny, Sol…'_ he grumbled to himself. The last dregs of sleep making him slow, uncoordinated.

“Slide over a little will you?”

Black talons immediately shifted to reach for the pistol the sniper kept at the top of the bed as he rolled, he didn’t recognize the voice. It wasn’t his sister. Instinct took over, when his hand came up empty the weapon gone from its hiding place. Garrus snarled, sharp talons aiming to grab the unknown female’s throat.

Surprise overtook him as the black-plated turian kicked out his leg and kept his momentum going. He was flung right off the bed, hitting the stone floor flat on his back, hard enough to have the wind knocked out of him. Only years of training on how to fall protected his fringe from cracking against the hard surface. In the second it took for him to regain his bearings, the female was on top of him. Pinning him down.

He struggled until he felt the cold metal of his own pistol under his jaw.

“Quite the nest hog, aren’t you Archangel?” the elderly female asked him as she held down his bad arm with her knee and the good side’s wrist with her free hand.

“Tiquette?” he balked, what the hell was Tiran’s grandmother doing?

She appeared to relax slightly above him now that he’d recognized her, delicate mandibles dropping into a smile as her cracked shadowy crest dipped in a nod. “There you are, Garrus.” The pistol withdrew from under his chin. “My apologies for waking you so harshly, but I did need to see what exactly we’re dealing with.”

“What?” Garrus bit out, a growl emanating from his chest as he tested the female’s hold over him. It was surprisingly strong. Not that the other gender was typically weaker than the males of his species, but he was a soldier still in his prime whereas Tiquette was an elderly physician. The disparity in strength should have been vast.

Her grip tightened and she sat her slight weight higher on his bare chest as he struggled, negating the effect of his hips for the moment. “Right now you’re probably quite confused, and that’s perfectly alright Garrus. There’s a particularly heavy sedative still coursing through your veins, I’m a little surprised myself that you managed to attack me at all.”

“Explain.”

“I had Tiran slip it to you this morning with your pain medication, ahhh ahh no. Don’t get angry with him…” she told him off as his face contorted into anger he could direct. “I’ve been working with soldiers since before your father was born. There aren’t many ways I’d get you pliant enough to understand, so forgive the subterfuge.”

“You drugged me!”

Tiquette nodded, “Yes.”

“And why in the name of the Spirits would that make me want to talk to you?” He was beyond angry, at Tiran and the doctor’s grandmother and anyone else they’d told and had agreed to this… _betrayal_. “GET OFF!”

“If you can’t see why attacking first is not the right reaction? Then no, I won’t.”

Garrus scoffed, eyes narrowed as he spit his response back. “Attacking kept me alive!”

The doctor’s head tilted to the slide, her ancient and glossy-green eyes sad as she watched his face. “I know it did, dear. But that time in your life is over. The days of sleeping with a gun under your pillow and the constant fear of discovery and attack are finished.”

“My mate was attacked less than a week ago,” he growled deeply, chest vibrating under her thighs. “They’re obviously not done, Tiquette. Now get off of me before I make you.” When she didn’t move at his threat, he was done with talking.

In an unusually flexible display for a turian, he planted his feet on the stone floor and threw his hips upwards until his back was bowed and just his shoulders were on the floor. The elderly female was thrown over his head and he twisted beneath her, one leg over the other as he rolled to his knees and escaped rearwards. The sniper grabbed her from behind, panting from the small exertion.

The young male expected her to fight, but the cracked and wrinkled turian did nothing against him. Not when his good arm wrapped around her throat or when his injured one took the pistol out of her hand to hold it to her head instead.

“Fight me,” he snarled in the best menacing voice he could muster with his stomach roiling and a headache pounding against his skull.

“What now, Archangel?” she asked instead, entirely calm despite her precarious position in a known killer’s arms. “You’d kill me, then what?”

The pistol wavered.

For the first time since Hastatim his firing hand was unsteady, unsure of what he should be doing. Even when he’d held Lantar inside his scope, he’d known exactly what he wanted to do, despite John talking him down in the end.

“Tell me Archangel, what would you do?” she egged him on, daring him to shoot her.

“Stop it,” he ordered, words clipped and harsh. “That’s not my name.”

Still the grandmother didn’t fight him. Her breaths were slow and even under his arm, serene despite the fact the dark plated female had to be able to feel his hands shaking.

“Yes it is. You’re the Archangel, aren’t you?” Her voice took on a edge, taunting him. “The dark knight of Omega. Gabriel and Michael, and all the other names the people there have for their savior.”

The blue eyed turian shook his head vigorously, throwing himself off balance. The menace dropped from his tone, fear working in, in its place. “No. I’m not. Stop. That’s… it’s not…”

“Or was it that damn turian menace?” she tried instead, striking a different nerve. “The gangs must have been pleased that you left your team’s bodies behind when you fell. Merin and Melanis would have been tor-”

“STOP IT!” he roared as he threw the female forwards, uncaring if he hurt her or how she fell. He needed to get away. “They burned,” he told himself firmly, eyes closing against the unrelenting physician. “Shepard said he burned it down.”

“What if he lied, Archangel? He had you. There was no reason to destroy your hideout.”

“No,” his hands came up to his head and he held his crest firmly between them. The cool metal of his pistol digging into his temple. “He wouldn’t lie to me.”

The old turian’s voice kept coming at him, hash and prodding. “Why not? He didn’t know you anymore. He’d been in hiding for two years. You’d changed. Become the worst version of yourself. Killing innoce-”

“NO! I didn’t- we didn’t…”

“You were going to kill me, weren’t you Archangel? A senile old grandmother who’d wandered into the wrong room. You wanted to. Tell me, Archangel how does that feel?”

He needed to get away, his heart was racing in his chest. Stress and dizziness making him ill.

Trying to stand failed as he collapsed under his own weight. Whatever the sedative was, was making his limbs heavy and his head spin. He couldn’t get away fast enough, only managing to crawl a meter or so before he vomited up the meager contents of his stomach. “Why… why are you doing this?” he whispered in a strained voice once he’d finished.

Tiquette didn’t answer, but he heard her adjust on the floor a few feet away. A quick glance back showed him that she’d righted herself to sit back against the bedside table, the light robes she’d been wearing knocked askew by the scuffle. Her sad green eyes watched him, he’d hesitate to call it a pitying gaze, but he didn’t have a better word for it.

“Why?” he ground out, half falling over to sit down against the bed. The hand not firmly wrapped around his pistol wiping his mouth. He couldn’t get away, his body betraying him as much as his sister’s partner had in giving him the sedative in the first place.

“You needed to see.”

“See?” he spat the word, growling low in his chest as he glared at her. “See what?”

Tiquette sighed, her eyes closing as she took a long breath. “Archang-”

“Stop calling me that!”

“I will,” the female replied sharply. “But only if you start acknowledging that _he_ is a part of you, Garrus. What you needed to see was what happens to you when you bottle him up. Your flight or fight response is entirely skewed towards fight. Before you even attempt to sort your situation, you attacked.”

The sniper’s crest tilted downwards, resting on his knees with his eyes shut tight as he tried to pass the dizzy spell. The world spinning around him, his body feeling heavy and not right.

“I’ve been asked to consult by my grandson, and assist however I can. I apologize if my methods aren’t what you’re used to from the other psychiatrists you’ve met.”

Garrus scoffed, saying nothing in reply. The hand without the pistol rubbing the back of his neck, trying to self soothe. It wasn’t working. He heard the black-plated female stand and by the sound of her footsteps, she gave him a wide berth as she walked past him. Once the footsteps stopped, she said something in a voice too quiet for him to hear.

Tilting his head to the side, two sets of legs came into view. Tiquette’s and Tiran’s. The doctor had watched the entire exchange. Even with Garrus’ vision blurred, he could see the police grade taser in the male’s hand. Tiquette hadn’t ever been in real danger.

They both looked up at the sound of metal hitting the stone floor and sliding away. “It wasn’t loaded,” Garrus said in response to the sudden action.

“Partially correct,” the elderly turian replied. “It’s defunct. Once you were asleep I took it and disabled the firing mechanism.”

Shaking his head, the Advisor contradicted her. “No. You didn’t. Solana or dad did. It’s coded to explode if tampered with by anyone who doesn’t share my DNA. Who was it?” his voice wasn’t angry anymore, just tired. He hung his head again, elbows on his knees. At least one of them had approved of this mess. Had believed him enough of a hazard or a risk that they let him be drugged in his own home. In his own room.

For the first time since Garrus noticed him, Tiran spoke. “Sol. She didn’t know why, only that it was to keep you safe.” The charcoal plated turian took a few steps closer, rounding the mess on the floor to squat down at the seated turian’s side. “Now that we know what we’re dealing with, we can help, Garrus.”

“Help?” he laughed without humor. “If this is what you consider helping, then I don’t want it. I was doing just fine, suppressing it until I needed him.”

“Fine?” it was Tiquette’s turn to scoff. “You single handedly killed five active combatants without proper armor or-”

“I’m a soldier!” Garrus yelled to cut her off, no longer caring how he sounded. It was obvious no one trusted him. Obvious they thought he was sick. His gaze snapped to hers, “That’s what I’m trained to do!”

Her right eye twitched, “Then explain why you nearly attacked your father in the _Caman_.”

“I…” the sniper stopped arguing as he remembered the day, it was clear in his mind. He remembered grabbing for the knife when his father startled him. The pained expression on Adrien’s face when he took the blade away.

Garrus saw the change in her face now that he knew he’d been caught. It wasn’t smug, just knowing. “Exactly, Garrus.” Her voice was gentler as she kept on, “How far would that have gone had Adrien not been there? How far would this have gone had I not gotten past Archangel?”

“I… I don’t know...”

“How many other times has it happened?”

He skipped her question, instead choosing to agree with the psychiatrist. “I need help.” His voice broke in the middle of his words, second voice flat.

“Admitting it is the first step,” she told him with a pleased and encouraging hum. “I’ll leave you with Tiran, but know that this was a good first session, Garrus. I’ll see you in the solarium tomorrow morning for our next.”

Neither of the males said a word as she excused herself from the room. Leaving the pair in silence once her sharp footsteps faded from hearing distance. For a small turian, she had quite the gait.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” Tiran offered as he sat down against the bed, shoulder to shoulder with the younger male.

The sniper took his time, righting the world in his head before he opened his blue eyes again to look at his sister’s partner. The charcoal plated male was, as usual, barefooted and covered from elbow to neck. He’d only seen him barechested once, the morning after they’d met. Despite the rest of the clan lounging regularly in various states of undress, as was typical for a turian household, Tiran never joined in.

“I may not like it, but I get it.” He turned to stare off into the middle distance, letting his eyes go unfocused. “How close were you to intervening?”

The doctor was honest enough to sound uncomfortable when he replied. “Almost did. But gran said not to unless you either pulled the trigger or drew blood… ah hers specifically. Sorry.” His hand indicated to a gash on Garrus’ wrist, which the younger turian ignored with a single armed shrug.

“Who else knew what the two of you planned?”

Tiran shook his head. “It’s not that simple. Even I didn’t know exactly what gran was going to do. Sol helped with the pistol, Castis gave the example case, Adrien approved of her assisting. But none of them were told she was going to force an episode.”

“ _Episode..._ ” Garrus mocked with a huff, his good hand running another line down his fringe while he ignored the rivulets of blood that had only just started to well up on his wrist. “Right. I’m probably certifiable as is. Deserve to get put back in Hastatim at best.”

“That’s not what I meant,” the shorter male defended, apology ringing out in his sub vocals.

Garrus needed to get up. Needed space. “But it’s what you said, Tiran.” It took a fair amount of effort, but he managed it. Wobbly legs and all. “I’m a danger. I’m having _episodes_.”

He tripped on his way to the bedside table, stumbling into it and knocking his visor to the floor. Thankfully it was a durable device, surviving a rocket blast among a hundred other things, so it just skidded away as he leaned on the table, using it to support himself with a frustrated sigh.

The doctor stood and crossed the room to pick it up, offering the visor to Garrus when he reached him. “I want to help you, brother. Not fight.”

Black talons wrapped around the plexiglass, his thumb sliding across the engraved names in the side panel. “What if you can’t?”

“At least let me try.”

The sniper gave a tiny nod of agreement, letting Tiran catch him as he fell. Legs giving up under the weight of the earlier sedation and the adrenalin drop-off. The doctor helped him back into bed, bandaging his wrist carefully as Garrus watched on in silence.

“Sorry,” the advisor slurred eventually. “Not feeling so great.”

Vivid-green eyes flicked up to meet his own glossy-blue, a hint of amusement in them through the sadness. “Surprised you made it as long as you did. You’re quite the tank.”

“Mhm…” he mumbled agreement, before sleep took hold. His body relaxing into the still warm sheets, mind blank of everything save the weight of his visor in his hand.

+-+-+-+-

Shepard’s eyes were glued to the view screen as the shuttle approached the high concrete walls of the Vakarian _maldis_. He let out a long, low whistle at the impressiveness of the structure. Like a fortress from humanity’s ancient times, it was an enormous compound and Garrus’ vague mentions of his clan home did it not a lick of justice.

“This is where he grew up?” John said aloud to express his surprise.

Behind him, Liara giggled and set her hand on his shoulder in a show of comfort. “I do believe it is. Not many of the _maldis_ this close the Cipritine survived the war, so it’s an even more unique sight now than it was before the war.”

“Right…” he mumbled in disbelief. “ _Maldis…_ what does that even mean?”

“Clan home,” the asari explained. “It’s where the highest tier or leaders of a clan live. As I understand it, tradition dictates that during the childrearing years more members of the family come together here and live communally to raise their young.”

He looked back at her, head tilting in curiosity as his gloved fingers trailed over her own on his shoulder. “So that makes Castis the leader of the Vakarian clan?”

“Correct,” she nodded. “Though he would have come second to his mate while she was alive.”

“Quite the history lesson,” Shepard grinned teasing her. “Almost as though you’re a doctor of history or something.”

“Archeology,” his partner corrected while giggling at him. “Come on, we’re here.”

“Yeah, let’s get this over with. Will be nice to get out of the envirosuit.”

Reluctantly, the human pulled on his helmet and stood from the pilot’s seat. The asari did the same and opened the shuttle’s door to step out onto the dusty walkway that would lead them from guest parking to the tall metal gates. The entryway was just as intimidating as the high walls were, fortifications were easily visible for John’s trained eyes. He picked out a few turrets and other security features, obviously his turian friend had learned his paranoia early in life.

The pair carried an overnight bag each, despite the Commander’s persistent limp he carried his own duffle over his left shoulder. Months of healing and he was still weak from the simplest of tasks. Miranda and Karin had done their best with him, but active duty was still a long ways away if it ever did come again.

“So do we knock… or…” Shepard mused as they approached the gate. Liara had been about to reply when a smaller metal door within the framework opened for them automatically.

His fiancée turned to smile at him, he could see it only in her eyes due to the helmet but it was there all the same. “We’ll ping at the front doors. Outside of wartime the front gates are generally programmed to recognize guests, Garrus must have let the system know we were coming.”

He whistled again. “Fancy.”

Indeed the Vakarian clan _maldis_ was gorgeous from the outside. The great concrete walls gave way to an interlocking stone pathway that weaved around the front gardens. Though they weren’t impeccably maintained, it was almost as though they were meant to have a slightly overgrown feeling in the heat of summer. It reminded the Commander of the books he used to read as a child, of ancient English styled gardens, always with something in bloom.

The main house was surrounded by blooming trees in silvers and blues, nothing like the greens of earth. He’d heard a hundred times that the turians came from a silver world of fortresses and fire, it was only now that he was beginning to understand why. Trebia’s heat directly overhead and standing within a true turian fortress.

He barely tuned into his fiancée’s words for all the sensory overload he was having.

“I suppose it’s a good thing my mother brought me to Palaven when I was a child,” the asari told her partner as they walked, voice wistful before turning wry. “Otherwise you’d still be waiting in the shuttle.”

Taking her hand, he gave it a gentle squeeze. Though she wouldn’t have been able to feel the warmth of his fingers, the gesture was the best show of support he could give. “You don’t talk about your childhood much,” he breathed a laugh, “not that I do either.”

“Perhaps we should then, not quite yet, but once we’re headed home?”

“Home…” the human mused, longingly.

She squeezed his hand this time. “We’ll make somewhere our own. Until then? The _Normandy’s_ our home.”

As he nodded in agreement as the pair reached a set of steps leading upwards to the massive front doors. They were made of a similar material to the building itself, smooth white stone. John was thankful for the handrail as they made their way upwards, it was only 21 stairs, but that was more than enough for his leg to take. Liara said nothing, only offered her arm at the top of them.

The set of double doors were made of a solid wood, the same cobalt blue as the Vakarian markings that Garrus wore proudly on his face. It was the only colour on the home. There was no glass in the windows, only intricately woven screens in black and white. The artistry involved in them was as much as would have been required for a fine painting.

Very quickly Shepard was learning that his friend was not the simple turian soldier or Citadel cop that he made himself out to be. On Earth this would have been old money or royalty.

At the doors, Liara pinged the main house with the entry panel. They waited in silence for a few minutes before the blue doors opened for a turian that neither he, nor Liara seemed to, recognize. A male taller than Garrus stood in the entryway, looking menacing with gunmetal grey plates and a piercing obsidian gaze. His broad arms crossed over his bare chest, which gleamed in the afternoon sunlight.

“Commander Shepard, Doctor T’Soni, _loramici intratar rekescatius._ ” The turian said in a deep bass voice that matched his stature.

The human’s eyes narrowed slightly as he tried to make out the words his translator had glitched over. Thankfully Liara had him covered.

“ _Exspectot uta-miki taib-itiass agrimetron?”_ she offered in return, her words stumbling together as she attempted the pronunciation of words her mouth had no business making. Whoever the turian was, it made him smile and step back to gesture them inside.

“Welcome to the Vakarian _maldis_ , Garrus mentioned he’d invited some friends.”

Once they were inside he shut the door behind them and began leading the pair through the main hallway. In contrast with the exterior in gleaming whites and silvers, the inside of the compound was darker, all natural grey stone and dark wood. The contrast was stark, and it took John’s eyes a few minutes to adjust to the dimmer light. He could remember the sniper explaining how turian ships were kept darker to promote calm, he supposed a home would be the same.

From the outside it had looked like a two storied building, but instead he found that the ceilings were just 9 meters high and supported with ancient wooden beams. The walls were adorned with tapestries and works of art depicting battles from long ago. To the Commander it almost felt like he’d stepped into a museum and not someone’s home.

The male’s voice broke him out of his bewilderment, “The screens will protect you from Trebia’s radiation. You’re welcome to take off your enviro-suits inside the _maldis,_ but I would recommend checking with someone before you go into the courtyards. They’re not all shielded.”

“All?” Shepard asked, incredulous. “There’s more than one?”

Dark grey mandibles pulled into an amused smile as the male turned back towards them, still leading them on as he nodded. “Three, as far as I know.”

He stifled the urge to whistle again, instead busying himself with removing his helmet. A quick glance at his asari companion showed her doing the same thing. With the helmet off, he was able to appreciate the smell of warm spices that wafted from somewhere unknown. The spice smell blended in with foreign wood scent that reminded him of cedar. It was warm inside, much warmer than John was used to, but not quite hot enough to be uncomfortable as long as he stayed out of the sun and didn’t overexert himself.

They followed the silent male along, his bare two-taloned feet making tiny clicks against the stone while the low slung pair of pants he wore didn’t make a sound as the fabric rubbed. By contrast he and Liara were elephants, heavy boots and suits not built for silence like the turian body was. It wasn’t a long walk by any means, but long enough that it took a few minutes to get from the door at an easy pace to wherever the mystery turian was taking them.

“So…” John began after clearing his throat. “Who are you exactly?”

The gunmetal-grey turian stopped at a closed door, pressing his talons to the panel, “While my relation is somewhat complicated? My name is Tenn. I’m a nurse at Mnemosyne Memorial hospital, and one of the members of the Melandra clan who’ve been staying here since the war ended.”

“Melandra, wasn’t that Garrus’ doctor’s name?” Liara queried.

Tenn nodded in agreement while humming in an affirmative tone. “Tiran, yes. Doctor Melandra won’t get you very far, there’s a lot of them.” He laughed at his own joke before gesturing to the, now opened, room. “You’ll understand later, I’m sure. Feel free to get into something more comfortable and relax after your journey. Someone will be by to get you in an hour or so.”

They entered the room and thanked the obsidian-eyed turian before he headed off in the direction they’d come from. Once the door was closed behind them, Shepard’s shoulders dropped and he let out a lungful of air.

“For a minute there I thought that he was some kind of butler,” he almost laughed with nervousness as he stepped further into the spacious guest suite.

Liara’s cool hand reached up and held the back of his neck a moment to comfort him. “Though staff wouldn’t be out of place? My sources did not tell me there were any.”

His eyebrow rose as he eyed his love. “Sources?”

With a knowing smile, she dropped her delicate hand and left him in the doorway to walk further into the space. To his left was a sliding door, leading to a washroom. There was a long hall table on his right where he left his helmet before following Liara deeper into the space.

It was sectioned into two parts, a sitting room with a set of low-slung asari couches in a luxurious pale blue fabric and behind that was a large bed centered on the back wall. The clean white sheets were offset by a floral bedspread, the colours of which reminded the Commander of the sunset he’d seen on Thessia. All purples and oranges.

“I don’t think humans are the intended target of this guestroom,” Shepard mused as he wandered to the couch and dropped his bag onto the floor as he sat down to pull off his boots.

Liara was already halfway out of her armor, placing each piece carefully onto the table as she stripped to her undersuit. The human paused long enough to appreciate the view before her clear blue eyes met his and she blushed a pale purple.

“Considering an asari styled room will work for most any species, no, probably not John.” She told him off with a bright laugh as she continued to undress. Letting him watch her with complete disregard for how much she riled him up.

When Shepard cleared his throat, she looked up with a hum of inquiry.

“We do have an hour…”

+-+-+-+-

Solana sat at the desk in her brother’s room, scanning through the backlog of engineering reports she’d missed over the past few days. Curtains were drawn half open, leaving the room dim enough for sleep with Trebia high in the sky, while still being bright enough to read by. It was quiet, just a little white noise whispering in the background as she studied. Occasional clicks of her talons against her thigh broke up the monotony as she tapped the beat to what would be Garrus’ bonding song. One that she’d helped him pick a few weeks prior.

The willowy female glanced up at the sleeping form on the bed, expression saddened. Her sibling didn’t deserve to be laid up in bed again, not when he’d already been through so much and had so much more still to do. The months before a bonding ceremony were supposed to be a happy time. One filled with preparations and parties. Not hospitals and psychiatric evaluations.

She glared back down at the report, the urge to throw the damn pad across the room was slow to dissipate. The Blackwatch Agent hated that she’d helped Tiran and Tiquette after her partner informed her of what happened. It had seemed like a harmless task to search her brother’s room for weapons and to disable them. He was safe in the _maldis_.

But they’d drugged him and forced one of those… _whatever they weres_ … on him. Forced Archangel to come out.

It hurt, knowing that she’d been complacent and compliant to the betrayal. At the very least the dove-plated female could be there for her sibling when he woke up, and that was something she decided.

One of her pale grey hands rose to rub at her crest in the exact same way Garrus and their father did. A learned habit if there ever was one. It wasn’t until Sol calmed a little that she even realised she was doing it. It made her smile, amused at the shared self-soothing gesture.

The Hierarchy had a generous leave policy for care of ill and injured family members, despite the war. One that she’d taken full advantage of when their mother was ill before the Reapers came and one that she needed to use again for her brother. Service to clan was a part of service to the Hierarchy as a whole. Half of the leave time she took would be added to her mandatory service years, which she was fine with considering she planned to stay on with Blackwatch until her forties regardless of the requirement.

Solana hoped that Garrus wanted her here. Tiran had told him that she’d helped with the ruse. Which, she supposed, was for the best in the long term, but at the moment it meant her brother would have one more perceived enemy rather than an ally.

Their father had talked to Tiquette as well, and even Adrien had given reluctant approval. The thought that Garrus wasn’t going to have a single friend dawned on her in that moment, causing her expression to fall once again. They’d all helped to trick him.

“Sol?” came a sleep lagged and quiet rumbling voice from the other side of the room, drawing her out of the self-doubting spiral. “What’s wrong?”

Solana looked up from the datapad, her pinched expression quickly swapping for surprise as she stood up and placed the datapad carefully down on the desk. “You’re awake,” she hummed in a grateful tone.

“Barely,” the sniper mumbled in reply, sitting up and scrubbing his face with his hands. Ridding his eyes of the fogginess. “You look upset, what’s going on?”

“It’s noth-”

“Don’t.” He stopped her before she’d even gotten halfway through the lie.

“I’m sorry, Garrus.” Her eyes slid to the floor, a little more ashamed of herself now than when she’d arrived. The immediate want to lie making her sick with herself. Solana’s mind spun with all the things she could say, nothing felt good enough. She leaned back against the desk, her arms crossed over her keel.

The Engineer heard the sniper slide out of the bed, taloned feet heavy on the floor, so unlike his usual silent movements. Whether it was from the residual sedative or his lack of caring at the moment, she didn’t know. Her read on him wasn’t nearly as good as it had been when they were fledglings.

He sighed, voice rough with disuse. “Talk to me, Sol.”

“I… I helped Tiran and Tiquette,” she admitted to him. He made a noise of acknowledgment and acceptance which confused her more than anything. Sky-blue eyes opened and she tilted her head in curiosity. “Why are you being so understanding?”

He glanced her her sideways, a sarcastic half smile on his weary face. “Would you rather I yell at you?” One of his shoulders rose in the shrug she’d gotten used to him making as he shook his head negatively. “I get it. I don’t like it. But I get it.” He forced himself into a stand, stumbling over his own feet a little as he walked to the closet. “You didn’t have a better option.”

“No… I guess we didn’t.”

Her brother rummaged around for a pair of lounge pants, pulling a simple solid blue pair out and tossing them to the bed before searching for something else. “Good thing I only coded for base DNA markers,” he mused, voice muffled by the fabrics and the fact he was talking away from her. “Should add Adrien to the program.”

The reaction Garrus was having wasn’t the one that she’d expected. Thinking more deeply about it, Sol didn’t actually know what she should have anticipated. While her own gut was roiling with guilt, her sibling just seemed mildly upset. Tired maybe.

Having found what he was looking for, the sniper pulled out of the closet and he wandered back to the bed. Steps a little surer now that he’d been vertical for a few minutes. The three-quarter length pants slid easily up his bare legs, tied over his hips and were loose around his spurs. The loose, black sleeveless shirt he shrugged on with a little more effort as he was still getting used to the newfound control in his right hand.

“Garrus?” Solana asked for his attention, crossing the space between them to stand at his side. His head tilted as he hummed in question, waiting for her to speak. “Are you alright?”

Glacial blue eyes met her own with only a hint of hesitation. Her brother held her gaze for a moment before shaking his head. “No. I’m not.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat at his honest tone, the exhaustion in his clipped words. “Is… is there anything I can do?”

The sniper seemed to consider it for a moment, initially beginning to shake his head before coming up with an answer. “Just be here. I can’t do it alone, Sol. I tried. But I… I just... can’t.”

When her arms opened to him, he stepped willingly into them. Wrapping his own around her smaller cowl and pressing his crest to her temple. The younger Vakarian could feel the tension through her sibling’s shoulders, it lessened as she held onto him. Like a bowstring snapping, he was at his limit. In that moment, Solana felt powerless. Offering comfort and a soothing tone was all she could do.

“Can…” he began, voice breaking over the word. He coughed and restarted. “Can I tell you something?” She pulled back enough to look at his face, but didn’t break contact as she hummed an affirmative tone. “It’s about the someone else. Before Adrien.”

Garrus’ face had taken on a stoney expression, old pain in his eyes.

“Of course,” Sol nodded, reassuring him as best she could. “You can tell me anything. I’m not going anywhere, G.”

He took a shaky breath, steeling himself. “Since you know the rest, you should know this part too. I don’t want to leave you in the dark anymore. Leaving shadows lurking…” Garrus stepped away from her, sitting down on the edge of the bed and patting the space beside him to indicate she should sit as well. When she did, he continued. “There were two. One on Omega, his name is Lantar. He was the turian who betrayed my team, sold us out to the mercs. I hunted him down, had him in my scope. Shepard talked me down. I let him walk. Despite what he did. Ten good people dead, and I let him go.”

Garrus shook his head, a light scoff falling from his mouth. “Haven’t seen him since. The other-” he stopped, words caught in his throat.

Her pale hand found his, strong fingers wrapping around his talons. “It’s okay,” she encouraged.

“-is… was... Urdnot Wrex.”

The whispered name was familiar to her, but… that wasn’t a turian name. It was krogan. Her immediate reaction was stifled in favor of silence and neutrality. Her brother didn’t need confusion or questioning or disgust right now. He needed support. The quiet remained between them for a full two minutes before he found the will to continue.

“It was long standing. Years. But the war changed him. He put his people, the genophage, above us. And he hurt me, badly.” His free hand slid along the freshly healed cheek plating, betraying where the scar had come from. “The genophage wasn’t cured. It was a lie. Wrex found out. Attacked Shepard. I killed him. Shot him dead.”

There was nothing Solana could say to that.

It was no wonder her brother was so strung out and in so much pain. Emotionally, she was barely processing it all and it hadn’t even happened to her. It was just learned truths. Agonizing memories shared and re-lived for her benefit.

“Now you know,” he said eventually. Just as something to break the silence between them. The sniper stood, dropping her hand before crossing to the door. He held the frame and paused, not turning to look at her. “I need some time alone, alright? Going to the bathhouse in the gardens.”

“Yeah, alright.” Solana agreed with a nod that he couldn’t see. She was left alone in his room as he walked out the door, the slight tap as the door finished closing sounding very final. The lingering silence as uncomfortable as hearing about her brother’s pain. “How much is one turian supposed to take?” she asked the empty room.

Silence was the only answer.

+-+-+-+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You only have yourselves to blame, planting the idea in my head last week with all your comments and encouragements.
> 
> Happiness comes eventually? I guess...
> 
> -VV


	29. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard finds a way to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays everyone!
> 
> As always a ton of hugs for the beta readers, for without them kicking me this wouldn't have been half as good.  
> [ **Spicy_Gnome**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Spicy_Gnome/pseuds/Spicy_Gnome) and [**Kuraiummei**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuraiummei/pseuds/Kuraiummei)

 

John’s head rested in Liara’s lap on the asari-styled couch while she absently stroked his buzzed hair and scanned a datapad. After Tenn left they’d taken a shower together before relaxing back into the pale blue fabric. Enjoying the quiet time they’d been afforded. While his intended got caught up on reports, the Commander had chosen to rest. Liara, like most asari, had waking periods much longer than humans did. Thus he took advantage of catnaps when he could. Liara’s presence always soothed him, and kept the nightmares at bay.

A light ping from the door chime startled John out of his doze. His deep blue eyes flicked open to blink blearily at the light grey plastered ceiling, a questioning hum falling from his lips. Rubbing at the weight of his eyes, the awoken soldier sat up with a yawn, grabbing for the shirt he’d left over the back of the couch earlier on. 

Liara stood, probably heading for the door to see who it was. A quick glance at his omnitool told him that it hadn’t been quite an hour yet, but he was happy that he’d get to see Garrus soon. There was an underlying anxiety to their visit and he probably wouldn’t feel right until he saw his turian friend well again. Or if not  _ well _ , at the very least  _ better _ .

The door opened while he was still pulling his shirt on, the pneumatic hiss preceding a subtle intake of breath from Liara. The tiniest of gasps. His fiancé’s concerned voice rose on the air as he shoved the cloth down to join her sooner rather than later. “Solana… what is it? Is everything alright?”

At first there was only a distressed sounding warble, sounding just like Garrus’ voice did when he was upset. “No,  no I... I’m really not, actually. Mind if I come in?”

His gracious wife-to-be tsked lightly, and he got line of sight on the scene just in time to see Liara draw the turian inside, an arm around her carapace. Garrus’ sister looked up from the floor, eyes shuttered, to nod cordially at him. Her eyes were mildly bloodshot and John nodded back, stomach feeling heavy but face neutral.

Solana was ushered to the couch, where she fell heavily onto the seat, the gauzy teal of her robes falling haphazardly around her stricken form. After a moment of heavy silence the lithe female’s faceplates dropped into her hands, another quiet warble escaping into the air. 

The asari followed her and sat down a small distance away while John leaned against the wall opposite them with his arms crossed over his chest.

They waited patiently for a minute, when the turian wasn’t forthcoming he spoke up. “Can I uh… get you something?” he offered, mouth quirked into an attempted smile. It wasn’t very convincing.

The willowy female didn’t reply, just shook her head in a negative and curled in on herself further. Shepard didn’t like it at all, and if the concern on the Liara’s face was any indication, neither did she. 

John’s eyes traced over the crumpled form of his best friend’s sister once more before looking to his fiancé. He shrugged, mouthing  _ ‘what do we do? _ ’. The asari’s brow furrowed a bit in confusion, trying to parse what he’d said. The human belatedly realised that mouthing a foreign language wouldn’t help the situation. He tried a hand signal instead,  _ ‘help’ _ . That one she understood.

Liara cleared her throat gently and place a cool hand on the back of Sol’s carapace, causing the younger female to look up at her. “Take your time, we’d like to help if we can.”

“Yeah…” she blew out a long breath, sitting up a bit straighter on the couch. “I don’t… I don’t know what to do…” 

“Did something happen?” John asked, and familiar blue eyes found his own. The intensity of them reminded him too much of Garrus in that moment.

“Sort of,” Sol began, voice uncertain and hesitant. “G… he told me about a few things… I’m not quite sure how to handle it. I… I thought you might be able to… I don’t know... explain? Maybe?”

The human’s mouth dropped into a frown, his brow furrowing. Telling Garrus’ sister about Archangel didn’t go well. He doubted spilling more of his friend’s secrets without running it by him first was a good idea.

“Potentially,” his fiancé began. “Why don’t you-”

“Lantar and Wrex!” she blurted out, interrupting Liara before dropping her gaze to the floor at the Commander’s feet. The subtle surrender in the way she flashed her throat as her head dropped wasn’t missed by either of the others.

John swore, shaking his head as he ran a hand over his forehead. After a moment he glanced upwards, Liara was having a similar reaction, though admittedly more subdued than his own as her delicate painted brows upturned and her large eyes appeared to dampen.

Sol let out a shaky breath as she leaned back against the back of the couch. Having the confirmation that she was seeking without either of them needing to give her details. Which he supposed was both good and not at the same time. 

After a moment of silence, Sol stood up. “I don’t know how to talk to him.” She told them while giving first him and then Liara a long look, determination was in her eyes and too many questions on her tongue. Even without knowing her well, John could tell that she held back a lot of what she wanted to say, instead she ended with- “I need help.”

Without hesitation, the Commander agreed. 

+-+-+-+-

Solana dropped John off at the doors to the small bathhouse. The skies were still bright, but the short term, umbrella like, radiation shield he held would keep him safe for the short trip to and from the out building. The lock was a brilliant green when they got there, somewhat surprising considering Garrus had told his sister he wanted alone time. 

_ ‘Suppose Liara or Sol could hack it, given enough time…’ _ he mused silently.

Had the biotic not been so concerned about his friend, he might’ve obeyed his wishes. But right now he just couldn’t. There was a small piece of his mind that nagged at him, reminded him that Garrus was a man of extremes. The risk may not have been great that he would hurt himself, but the potential for harm was too great to ignore. He tried to reason that mitigating the risk was worth the intrusion.

As John touched the panel to open the door, his escort disappeared in the direction of the house. Having never been inside a turian bathhouse before, let alone a private one inside of a grand  _ maldis _ , he wasn’t quite sure what he expected to find inside the building. It almost reminded him of a Japanese onsen, but not… maybe more like ancient roman baths. All clean white marble. Elegant in its styling.

“Garrus?” Shepard called out as he stepped inside far enough to let the door close. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the lower lighting, not that the baths were dark, but it was overly bright outside. Trebia just starting to set. Scanning the room, from the blue and silver tiled walls that reminded him of the Vakarian’s colouring, to the large bath at the room’s centre he found himself rather impressed with the esthetic.

He heard the water move before he saw the other male. Garrus had been under the water, just coming up for air now and facing away from the door as he shook the drops from his fringe and took a full breath of the room’s warm humid air. The sniper took his time moving back to the pool’s edge, stopping beside a small pile of items that retired Alliance officer didn’t recognize.

“Hey, G?” he tried again, taking a few steps further into the bathhouse. The human kept his footsteps loud enough for his turian friend to hear, making it easier for him to place where he was in the room.

At the second attempt, the sniper perked up and turned to face him. “Shepard,” the ex-vigilante greeted as always. A placid expression on his face.

Without meaning to, the Commander jerked back in surprise. His ocean-blue eyes traced his friend’s face. His  _ naked  _ face. Not a scrap of cobalt to be seen. Garrus had barefaced himself. He must have been gaping, because the ex-detective shrugged with just his good arm and turned away towards the kit. A compact mirror was opened and he used it to check his face carefully, his left hand grabbing a brush like tool and dabbing at a crevice along his damaged mandible.

“What… what did you do to yourself?” the human asked hesitantly. Unsure if he should just leave or stay the course. In all honesty he had no idea what it meant. He just knew that barefaced turians were considered untrustworthy, or at least that’s what his friend’s distaste for Saren and Kuril had implied all those years ago. 

Garrus blew out a short huff from his nose. “It needed to come off at some point.”

John took a few more cautious steps forwards. Rounding the pool to sit down on the loungers in front of the newly barefaced turian. His leg was thankful for it, but the proximity set him a bit on edge. He wanted to help and had no fucking clue what he was doing. Waiting for Adrien was quickly becoming a much more appealing idea.

“Why?”

Glacial eyes flicked up to meet his own, the mirror lowering. “Best case? Reapplication. I’m years overdue for a touch-up.”

When the sniper wasn’t forthcoming with the opposing end of the spectrum, the Commander prompted his friend. Needing to understand. Wanting to help. Too deep now to go back. 

“And worst?”

Garrus looked away, his gaze falling back to the mirror to look at his own reflection. After a moment he placed the compact down on the tiled floor, eyes closing while his hand pressed to the top of his nasal plates. He didn’t answer.

Only because of the quiet in the room was John able to hear the near quiet waiver of uncertainty in the turian’s second voice. The human wouldn’t admit to understanding the sub vocal language of the average turian, but he knew his friend. He watched on, waiting patiently for Garrus to be ready to speak. All the while forming a retort in his own mind.

“Worst?” the ex-cop reiterated without changing his expression or posture. “At worst I’ve saved my family the trouble of doing it for me.”

“I don’t understand,” John replied, honestly. In the past, the turian would always be willing to explain cultural differences to him and he hoped the answer would give him better insight into what his friend was thinking.

Garrus’ hands dropped to his sides, a sigh falling from his mouth as he debated on how to explain it. “It’s… hm.” His head tilted to the side, mandibles flaring outwards before pulling into his jaw. “In general? Clans strip markings from the untrustworthy. Criminals mostly, but more traditional clans strip biotics too. Without colony marks you’re without a home to be loyal to, and are treated as such.”

“Okay… then what about you?” Shepard asked while he did his best to keep a neutral face. Very carefully keeping any hint of accusation out of his voice.

“I told Solana about Wrex,” he replied slowly, as though the answer were obvious. When John’s expression didn’t shift, he kept on. “You already knew that.”

“I did,” he nodded once in agreement before continuing. “But that doesn’t explain why you think they’d strip your markings. I don’t get it.”

Ripples spread as Garrus moved, sitting himself down on a bench where the water came up to his mid-chest. He appeared to be stalling. Trying to get a better sense of his words before he answered. 

“I’m unworthy of their trust, John. You might not care that I was in a relationship with a krogan, but my family sure as hell will. Not to mention the fact I was a vigilante for two years, or that before any of this mess started I was Hastatim.” He looked up in time to catch the flash of confusion over the last term, so he explained, “Turian urban warfare squads. Turians killing other turians in the name of Hierarchy cohesiveness.

“It’s what I did before C-Sec,” Garrus admitted, swallowing hard. “Full of murderers and psychopaths.” A fake laugh passed his lips, “And I was one of the best.”

Sitting still wasn’t working for the sniper, he stood again, and this time left the water and moved to the far end of the bathhouse. Half drying himself with a towel, and leaving it wrapped around his slim waist before resting his palms on the countertop and staring at himself in the mirror.

“I should have removed them a long time ago, but I was holding onto the hope that somehow they’d never find out. That I’d get myself killed before ever getting the chance to come home and face them.” Droplets of water fell from the turian’s sharp angles as he shook his head. “I should be dead a hundred times over.”

Silence reigned for a few minutes. Neither male having anything to say just yet. The words too fresh. The pain too real in that moment. Before his eyes, Garrus was falling apart. 

John had to do something. He needed to keep his best friend from falling any further into this downward spiral. He wasn’t willing to give up. The turian in front of him deserved so much more than the hand he’d been dealt, and perhaps it was time that someone actually told him so.

“Garrus,” Shepard began as he stood from his place on the lounger. Not G, for that was too casual. Not Advisor Vakarian, because that was too formal. Not Archangel either. Just Garrus. “Look at me.” 

His voice caught as the turian turned and the normally bright blue eyes of his friend met his own darker ones. Say what you will of turian expressions, but everything about Garrus’ face in this moment spoke of his pain. From the tension in his jaw to the tightness of his eyes.

The biotic cleared his throat, beginning anew. “I need to tell you something that I probably should have shared with you a long time ago.” He waited for some kind of acknowledgment, eyes steady on the Hierarchy Advisor until there was a slight nod. “All of this?” he gestured to the room around them, “Would be ash without you.”

Garrus scoffed lightly, arms crossing over his keel as he leaned back against the counter. Disbelief and argument about to begin before Shepard cut him off.

“I’m serious. People keep thanking me, as though I saved the galaxy all by myself,” he laughed without humor, betraying how ridiculous he thought it was. “You know just as well as I do it wasn’t a one man job. It took every single one of us. I didn’t do anything alone and I couldn’t have lead the effort without you at my back. Without you on my six… I’d have been dead a long, long time ago and stayed that way. Saren. Sovereign. Collectors. Cerberus. Reapers. And every gods damned thing in between.”

Before the turian could interject, he kept on. Not letting the other male get in a word edgewise. “After Cerberus brought me back, I was still dead inside. I didn’t believe that I was actually John Shepard. It was like I wasn’t in my own body, I felt wrong. Like my arms were too short and my feet too big. It was stupid. And then I saw Tali… and… and she rejected me. Was afraid of me. It only made everything worse. Like her fear validated my own concerns.

“By the time I made it to Omega I was just going through the motions. Doubting every move I made. Was I me or just a clone? Was I even making my own decisions?” he shrugged, opening his arms up to the turian with his palms facing the ceiling. “I really didn’t know.”

Garrus just nodded at him in understanding, not speaking. Maybe he wasn’t able to fully comprehend what John had gone through, but at the least he could be sympathetic.

“When you recognized me, said my name as though it was the most normal thing in the world to just... come back from the dead? It… it…” the human’s voice broke, jaw clenching tightly to fight off the dampness of his eyes. “You gave me back what I was missing.”

John’s hand moved to cover his heart. “You fixed me.”

“So when I say that none of this would have been possible without you? I need you to believe me. You’ve always had my six, Garrus. Been the brother that I never had.” He smiled, hoping that he’d managed to get his point across. “When I tell you that you’re the most trustworthy person I know, I need you to accept it. Have faith in me.”

The turian shook his head, “It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?” he threw back. “You single handedly convinced the Hierarchy to prepare for a war no one else believed was coming.” He let it hang for a moment before adding, “Am I wrong?”

Garrus didn’t reply. His mouth snapping closed as he tilted his head away in surrender.

“You  _ deserve  _ your markings. You  _ deserve  _ to be happy. We won, Garrus. It’s time to start acting like it.”

The sniper shook his head, “It’s not like it’s just some kind of switch I can flip, Shepard. Even if I believe you, and I’m not entirely sure that I do, it doesn’t change what I did. What I am.”

Their eyes met. Each staring the other down, waiting to see who’d break first. The only sound the quiet droplets of water falling from the turian’s plates to the tile floor. When it looked like neither of them was going to back down easily, Shepard tried a different approach.

“Do you trust me, Garrus?” 

“What kind of question is that?” he shot back, offended by the implication that he didn’t. John didn’t reply verbally, just raised his brows and waited. “Yeah. I trust you.”

“Then believe me.”

Teeth clenched audibly as Garrus growled, “You just don’t get it, do you? It isn’t that easy!” He took a few paces forwards, hands down at his sides with talons bared. “I thought I was getting better. I’m not. I thought I had Archangel locked away. I don’t. I thought I was over Wrex. I don’t think I’ll ever be. I thought the nightmare was over, Shepard, but it’s never ending. The only thing I can do now is not bring everyone else down with me. That’s the first thing I can do right.”

His breaths were heavy by the time he finished. Shoulders shaking. 

John didn’t back down this time. Didn’t run.

“You don’t have to do this alone. I’m here, Liara’s here. Your family. Your mate. None of us would abandon you. None of us are going to sell you out, or betray you.” Garrus stared at him blankly. Trying and failing to form words in response. So instead John continued, hitting the nail harder into its coffin. Driving the point home. “This isn’t Omega. There’s no bridge. Or gangs hunting you down. We’re here.”

The sniper swallowed the lump in his throat, finding a low strained voice in its wake. “What if...?”

“If what?” he asked softly.

“It... can’t be fixed?” the turian bit out, eyes downcast. “I’m just… too far gone?”

Shepard closed the distance between them, placing a warm hand on the taller male’s damp shoulder. He gave it a firm squeeze in reassurance, finally getting through to the root problem. Some unknown inadequacy, years in the making. Probably starting before the two of them had even met.

“Would you give up on me?”

He watched on as Garrus’ eyes squeezed shut tightly and his back tightened further. After a moment of silent contemplation, his head shook in a negative. “No,” the sniper replied honestly. Body relaxing as his eyes opened and he looked straight at John. “I wouldn’t give up on you.”

The Commander smiled, holding out his free hand out between them. “Then let me return the favor, brother, because I’m not giving up on you either. Alright?”

Talons and fingers met as Garrus offered his hand.

“Yeah. Alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reactions?


	30. Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I want to hide the truth, I want to shelter you. But with the beast inside, there's nowhere we can hide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of note for you this chapter, first off I’ve got back and done a massive edit to all previous chapters fixing minor inconsistencies/spelling/grammar, and I’ve added in about 500 words to Chapter 7 from Wrex’s point of view. If you notice anything amiss let me hear it!
> 
> Next, I definitely fucked up and said Adrien’s eyes were grey. They are actually gold. I have paid penance and gone back to fix it. The following describes Garrus’ thoughts on them. Enjoy.
> 
> ‘In that moment, Garrus saw his unique golden gaze for what it was. The lighting in a thunderstorm. His own glacial colour swallowed up by it. Ice melting at the force of the storm.’
> 
> Aiesha, the original character mentioned within, belongs to [**CristaldePhoenix**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CristaldePhoenix/pseuds/CristaldePhoenix) and is borrowed with love. 
> 
> And last, but not least, this week’s song recommendation and Beta thanks!  
> [ **Demons By Imagine Dragons**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mWRsgZuwf_8)
> 
> [**Spicy_Gnome**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Spicy_Gnome/pseuds/Spicy_Gnome) \- So much love!

 

Cerulean-blue eyes flicked upwards towards the new message icon that appeared in the top right hand corner of her datapad. Liara’s personal AI assistant, Glyph, had marked it as urgent and she let out a long sigh, everything seemed to be urgent these past few months. A thin manicured finger pressed the open key and as the message decrypted she relaxed back on the shaded bench underneath silver leafed trees.

Solana had left her in the radiation-shielded courtyard at the centre of the _maldis_ and the evening air was pleasantly warm against her skin. The heat of the day quickly fading and becoming a much more reasonable temperature to the asari. Her species preferred cooler climates than Palaven, sitting closer to 17 degrees centigrade rather than the humid 35 that Cipritine held at the heat of the day.

While she was worried about Garrus, her mind was more focused on the other issues she had at hand. Namely the Primarch’s issues. This attack went off without alerting her network and that fact perturbed her to no end. As a result of the war, Shadow Broker agents in the Hierarchy and turian held colonies were, in a word, lacking. Too many of them dead or deserting the organization during the war.

The placid asari couldn’t really fault many of those who left, they’d gone back to their Hierarchy allegiances. As was expected from retired soldiers in wartime. Their skills would have been no doubt useful for the war effort as a whole. It just meant that now her lack of agents was hurting her organization all the more… and it was hurting her friends.

It simply wouldn’t do.

A little blip in her aural implant let her know that the program had finished decrypting the priority message. Scanning the headline, Liara determined that it was indeed important, Glyph was useful as always. Her practiced eyes skimmed the length of text once before she reread the important parts.

There were still terrorist leanings centered on Solgreit and Invictus, those two colonies had done some token executions of known separatists in wake of the attack. No big players, she noticed with a delicately raised brow. Digeris on the other hand, had executed a full contingent of disloyal soldiers. It was interesting to see the response. Turians were a species of extremes, total annihilation of their enemies was simply the norm. This was the reason why they needed the asari to temper them on the galactic stage, but in turian held space her species had no place to tell them off.

In some ways she approved, having no love for terrorists herself. In others the demure asari disagreed with such brutality with the casualty levels so high already from the war. It wasn’t her place to decide.

Glyph’s report held a note about a second potential assassination attempt. A leaked plan to one of her remaining agents on Solregit. They were planning to blow up Adrien and Garrus’ apartment building. Liara’s melodic voice hummed in consideration as she built a plan within her mind. This time she could assist. Ensure her friends’ safety and that of the civilians who lived there.

Part of her was disgusted that anyone would take such advantage of the post war weaknesses, while the rest of her admired the ruthlessness of the plan. It was sneaky, almost salarian in its cunning. There was a building with half of a Reaper stuck inside of it not two blocks away from the apartment. They planned to load the husk with explosives and detonate it while the parts were being flown out. Make it look like a terrible accident.

A few quick clicks of her finger tips had her own plan in motion. The Shadow Broker couldn’t help her small smirk as the acknowledgment came in, it would be dealt with swiftly.

“At least something looks to be going right,” Solana’s light tones broke the asari out of her focused daze. When her cerulean eyes flicked upwards she caught the familiar Vakarian blues. “Sorry,” the turian apologised. “I’m too quiet for my own good sometimes.”

Liara gave her a soft expression, pale lips smoothing to serene. “Not at all. I learned long ago that many of our acquaintances are too quiet. I’m not sure if Garrus mentioned all those he and Shepard worked with, but I can recall a particularly silent drell. Like a shadow.”

The willowy female hummed in agreement and sat down on the bench beside the asari, an arm’s length away as to not be intrusive. The Shadow Broker approved of her discretion.

“I hope you don’t mind if I finish this, nearly done now.”

“Not at all,” Solana mildly replied, a hint of sarcasm in her voice as she continued. “I understand this visit wasn’t exactly planned.”

“I can manage from here. And Shepard can get away with missing a few appointments I think,” she smiled softly and when her aural implant pinged with an incoming message decryption she glanced down, face unchanging, as she saw the confirmation of her orders. _‘Excellent.’_

Sol was watching her face when she finished. No one had explicitly told Garrus’ sister who she was, or at least neither she nor John had. Regardless, Liara had an inkling that Solana suspected something. Perhaps it was time to let her in on the secret, and possibly solve some of her own connection issues at the same time.

The young Blackwatch agent appeared to be discrete, working her way up the ranks quickly as would be expected of a Vakarian scion. Her mother had been the same. Quite the family of law enforcers, between her’s and Garrus’ parents. Both covert operations and public service. It was an interesting combination.

“When you’re finished, would you like to see the _maldis_?”

Liara’s eyes brightened at the offer, a history buff at heart. “That would be lovely, thank you.” Another ping from the datapad let her know her agents were engaging, outwardly there was no change in her expression, but inside she was grinning. Putting the pad to sleep while the mission ran, she stood while brushing the wrinkles out of her bright yellow sundress. “Shall we?”

Nodding in agreement, the young turian joined her and led the way back inside the _maldis_ , out of the warm sun and to the cooler halls. Her talons were silent against the stone floors and Liara’s own feet made but a whisper as her leather slippers glided along. There was still a cinnamon smell hovering in the background. She wanted to know where it came from, but refrained for now. The question seeming silly in the wake of Solana’s stories.

The building was truly a work of art, everywhere they went there was something different to look at and Solana was able to explain each and every piece. It made her curious.

“If I asked Garrus, would he be able to explain even half of what you’d told me?”

“Probably best I’m the one showing you around,” Solana chuckled and shook her head. “He knows about as much as I do, but he’s generally one to embellish a little. Make the story more exciting.”

Liara giggled behind her palm, knowing that the Blackwatch agent wasn’t wrong. Garrus had always been known to give a little more pizazz to his tales, especially ones that weren’t about himself. “I do believe that I agree with you there.”

“The library is quite something,” the willowy turian told her conversationally, leading her on with the offer. The asari wasn’t able to stop the brightness that came to her cerulean eyes at the prospect. If there was one thing she loved, it was a good library.

“I’d love to,” she agreed quickly. Solana led them onwards, towards the front of the _maldis._ As they wandered through the grand hallways another ping came in through her aural implant and she glanced down at the datapad.

_Mission Accomplished._

Was all it said. A few delicate clicks had payment transferred to her agents. The threat neutralized for now. When she glanced up from her pad she was met with curious blue orbs. There was no time like the present, or at least that’s what Shepard like to tell her.

“I have an offer for you…”

+-+-+-+-

It was the first time Tiran had been in the library at the Vakarian _maldis_ , he was fascinated with the old world esthetic and the smell of thousands of years of history on the shelves. Thick leather bound books from pre-electronic ages, the durable paper of ancient turians inside their covers, adorned the shelves along with hundreds of datapads from all eras. Even though most of the room was for show, electronic copies of everything available on the hidden data banks via the home’s wireless network, he felt a certain sense of importance here. It was a calming place.

Or… it would have been if he wasn’t seated across from Castis Vakarian and about to ask him his opinion on clan entry. The charcoal-plated turian swallowed thickly, pushing down his nerves with a sip of freshly made kava. He choked on it a little, and it caused a small coughing fit, not that that was particularly unusual for him.

The pair of males were seated on the more formal furniture in the room, the stiffer cushions of the worn leather couches more appropriate for serious conversation than the low slung reading nooks dispersed throughout the large room or the smattering of desks that were generally made private with small conveniently placed walls. Though it wasn’t so bad as sitting at the long dining room-like table meant for study and research. That would have been much worse.

“You were saying, Tiran?” Castis prompted after the younger turian calmed.

He cleared his throat, happy the elder male didn’t make anything of his small fit. “I was saying that Solana and I had been discussing making our relationship more formal.”

“Oh?” The ex-detective offered in reply. Not a hint of his feelings on the subject in either of his voices. Much too well trained for anything to slip by him.

His black crest dipped in agreement, sub vocals sounding an apologetic note. “I would have liked to have met with both you and your bondmate, since she is gone I thought it might be appropriate to speak with you here. Sol said the library was her favorite place in the _maldis."_

Castis’ face loosened at the mention of his late bondmate. His voice quiet as he agreed, “It was. She always like the feel of leather bindings in her talons. She would have liked you, I think.”

He flushed at the praise, his neck darkening a shade. Hardly noticeable, but the Security Chief was observant and the lighting higher in this room than elsewhere in the clan home, “Thank you, sir.”

“I think you can call me Castis by now, Tiran.”

“Thank you, Castis.” The doctor corrected before taking another sip of kava and placing the turian styled mug down on the low kava table in front of him. “I’d like your opinion on my potential bonding with Solana.”

The pale-grey turian relaxed back into the couch, his arm resting along the back of it with one ankle resting over the opposing knee. He was a perfect picture of calm. His face however was inscrutable, and the charcoal male hated how little he could read him.

Silence reigned for a few minutes, only the sound of some of Palaven’s evening creatures starting to wake up coming from the shaded windows. Tiran didn’t flinch, holding strong, watching the elder male. It was against his nature not to defer, but in this case it was necessary. He would do anything for Sol. Even if it meant standing up to her father, who he was honestly still just a little terrified of.

“As far as I’m concerned…” Castis broke first, mandibles falling into a smile. “Solana will make her own decisions. Just as Garrus did. But for what it’s worth, you would be welcomed with open arms, Tiran.”

The weight that was lifted off his shoulders let the doctor deflate a little, a rush of air coming out of his lungs. He ran one taloned hand along the length of his fringe, self-soothing a little. When Castis chuckled he glanced up, green eyes catching the familiar blue.

“Did you think I’d forbid it?” the older male inquired, mandibles tilted in a wry smile.

He shrugged, shoulders rising and falling in the more humanistic expression of uncertainty. He, like Garrus, had picked it up working around humans on the Citadel years ago and he’d never been able to shake it. “Not… really. It’s a relief all the same.”

“Mhm,” Castis hummed in reply as he stood up and crossed the room towards the small kava station beside the main doors. He filled his mug first before turning to lean against the small counter. “We’d be lucky to have you.”

The comment threw the more timid turian off, his eyes narrowing in his mild confusion and his head tilting sideways. His self-esteem had always been fairly low, stemming from years of working with patients who either hated or were terrified of him. Not to mention the issues he had with his scars. “I’m sorry… but why?”

The Vakarian clan leader watched him, a mild chuckle rumbling out from his chest. It wasn’t directed at him, so much as it was amusement at the disbelieving look. “You’ll figure it out,” he offered instead of giving a straight answer.

“Right…” Tiran drawled in his rougher baritone. Still confused, but letting the subject drop for now. Admittedly, just thankful that he wasn’t going to have an argument on his talons.

“Have you spoken with your own clan yet?” Castis queried between sips of his hot drink.

Again, the darker crest dipped in a nod, amused sub vocals rumbling under his words. “They’ve been encouraging me to ask for months. Alli’s been on my case since the refugee ship.”

“So why wait?” He appeared to be honestly curious.

Tiran’s sub vocals waivered, and he was thankful he needed to take a moment to cough before he began the explanation. Solana knew already. It was only fair her clan was afforded the same information. “I’d nearly bonded once before, when I worked on the Citadel after leaving service.”

Castis was ever patient, not cutting him off as he took a moment to find his voice again. The sorrow palpable.

“She died. In the Geth- er… - I suppose it was actually the first Reaper Attack on the Citadel. I had pushed for us to wait to bond until we were both ready. Until our careers allowed us to be together.” Clearing his throat he pushed on, a sad yet fond expression on his face. “It started as a flash flood. We nearly bonded within the first few dates. But I wanted to wait. Let it grow, mature at its own pace.

“When she passed I thought that was the end. I left the Citadel. Nearly let myself get pulled back into primary service with the Cabals.” He shuddered, unpleasant memories coming back in force. “I wasn’t well suited to it the first time, going back would probably have been a death sentence. Clan kept me out.”

Closing the distance between them, the turian who may become his bonded father placed a warm hand on his shoulder. “Everything that has happened has brought us here.”

Tiran looked up at him, calming at the familiar words. “Aiesha used to say that.”

Loss was part of life, a fact he’d learned many times over. It was humbling and painful. But without it he wouldn’t be who he was today. Castis’ sub vocals were supportive and understanding. The male had lost his own bondmate, something none of his born family members had experienced prematurely, thus were unable to comprehend.

Despite never having bonded to his first love, the loss he’d felt had been real.

They might have continued their talk, but the pneumatic hiss of the library’s doors pulled them out of their discussion. At the entryway stood Solana and Doctor T’Soni, the pair appearing to be deep in discussion that stopped when they realised they were no longer alone.

A warm welcoming tone emanated from Tiran’s chest as a smile spread across his mandibles, he couldn't help but feel lighter when Solana walked into a room. There was something about her that never failed to cheer the young doctor up.

Castis rumbled his own greeting, removing his hand and taking a step away from him. Ice-blue caught his vivid green, and he saw the flash of approval for his immediate change in demeanor at the sight of his would-be mate.

“Dad, Tiran.” Solana said by way of hello, a fond tilt to her mandibles at seeing the two of them getting along. “Are we interrupting?”

“Not at all,” her father replied with warmth. “I thought you were with Garrus?”

The brief pinch of discomfort at the mention of her brother didn’t go unnoticed. Though it was the asari who replied instead. “John is with him,” she told them smoothly. “Solana was just giving me a tour of the _maldis._ ”

“Of course,” Castis’ crest dipped in understanding and he gestured to the couches. “You’re welcome to join us for kava or your prefered equivalent.”

Tiran stood up from the couch, offering to make drinks for them, as the pair agreed and joined the elder turian. While he started water heating the three of them began talking about the library. Solana’s melodic voice vibrant as she talked about her mother’s favorite place, her father joining in to add details that she missed. Her expression was joyful, warm.

The task kept the surgeon’s deft hands busy while he half listened to the conversation and half reminisced. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if he’d have gotten through the war without Solana at his side. He’d spent too many months hurting and alone over the years, and never wanted to feel that way again. Sol accepted him, despite the scars, despite his history.

She’d never replace his first love. Though the pair had an eerie number of similarities, the relationships were different. He was a different turian now than he had been five years ago.

Solana caught him watching her when he was nearly finished making the turian styled tisane for her. Delicate mandibles flicked in amusement at him while he ducked his head in mild embarrassment at being caught. If Castis or Doctor T’Soni noticed the change they didn’t say anything.

Standing from the couch, Sol continued conversing with the other two while she sauntered over to press her crest affectionately against his temple and take the freshly prepared tisane from his hands. Sub vocals grateful and slightly curious. Though his willowy partner didn’t inquire just yet, he figured she would later.

Even though their conversation had been interrupted, he and Castis had managed to discuss enough that he knew the older male would welcome him into the clan. The young surgeon needn't be worried about that aspect, and the relief he felt was immense.

He was just about finished making tea for Liara when the door opened and two very different sets of footsteps entered into the room. He hummed a welcoming tone without looking up, guessing who it was with ease from the unique gaits. His own family wasn’t nearly so quiet as Garrus and Shepard walked with a slight limp, not to mention his human feet sounded different than turian ones.

A gasp and the sound of shattering glass made the doctor jerk away from the station and turn towards the others. Beyond Garrus and Shepard, Solana stood with a look of abject horror on her face. His eyes shot from her face to the two newcomers backs, they were obviously the cause but the reason wasn’t obvious at all. Looking to the others, there were varying expressions. Doctor T’Soni confused and Castis stunned.

“Sol…” the charcoal-plated turian began with calming sub vocals underlining his voice. His attention was back on her now that he’d scoped the room, and he took a few steps forwards until he was standing level with Shepard and Garrus. “What’s wrong?”

Her eyes were wide with shock, mandibles slack. She didn’t seem to notice that she’d dropped her mug and it had shattered across the floor.

“Sol…” Garrus tried, his voice tight and sub vocal tones flat.

“Don’t… don’t you _Sol_ me, Garrus. What in the Spirits’ names did you do to yourself?” As she spoke her voice got louder, angrier. That wasn’t like her at all, she was usually the picture of calm or if not calm then snarky. The doctor was confused, and his second voice betrayed that as he watched on. She ignored him.

“I thought you might do something… I… I just didn’t know what. And you… you just…” she growled and took a few steps towards her brother, furious blue eyes flicking to Shepard before they were back on Garrus again.

Tiran had no idea what his partner was on about and it took him taking a few steps forwards to look at her brother to figure it out. His cobalt-blue markings were missing from his face. Charcoal mandibles fell in surprise and he felt his heart drop at the pain that was visible on the younger male’s face. Garrus’ bare mandibles pulled in tightly against his cheeks and his head tilted to the side in surrender, baring his throat.

That expression didn’t sit well on him.

“We’re putting them back on. Now.” Solana snapped, stalking towards him. “I don’t care if I have to pin you down and force them back onto yo-”

The doctor couldn’t take it, he stepped between the siblings and cut her off. “Solana, stop.” She jerked away from him in surprise, not expecting him to intervene.

“Move,” his partner grunted at him once she’d brought her expression out of surprise and back to anger. “This has nothing to do with you.”

Tiran shook his head, unmoving from his guarding location. She was wrong, not only did he have an obligation as Garrus’ doctor, but as his friend and her near mate. The lanky turian was furious and confused, he could understand that. However, yelling and threats weren’t going to help anything. There would have been a reason for the sniper to bareface himself. They just didn’t know what it was. Or at the least, he didn’t.

“I’m not going to do that,” he told her, eyes shifting to Castis to see if he’d provide any assistance. That wasn’t likely, however, as the Security Chief was still in silent shock. The Vakarian clan leader hadn’t moved other than to clench his hand on his knee. The knuckles paling with the force with which he gripped. The pair of them were being completely uncharacteristic in his opinion and he had to make it stop. No matter how hard his heart was pounding in his chest.

The next growl was directed at him, and it took everything he had not to flinch away. Solana was alarmingly scary when she wanted to be. He’d seen it once or twice, but never directed at him. He set his strong mandibles in a hard line against his jaw.

“Of all the stup-”

“SOLANA!” He snarled back at her, his deep baritone voice booming in the library and echoing off the walls. “Stop. This helps nothing.”

She stumbled back a few paces, her focus on him again instead of her brother. She made a distressed noise and made to say something else, but he cut her off.

“No,” he told her more gently with a slight shake of his head as he closed the distance between them. Not stopping until his hand was resting on her shoulder and he was able to pull her against his chest. It vibrated with a comforting rumble as he felt her quake in his arms, the stress having finally boiled over. “It’s alright, Sol. Come on, let’s give your dad and Garrus a few minutes. Cool off.” He felt her nod into the fabric of his tunic. And with that he relaxed his hold a bit and pulled back enough to glance to Castis. The older male seemed to just be regaining his bearings. The doctor pulled his partner along, wrapping his arm around her shoulders to escort her out.

As Tiran passed Garrus he paused a moment, placing his free hand on the younger male’s shoulder and squeezing gently with a reassuring note to his sub vocals. The surgeon would support him no matter what. Having markings or not having them wouldn’t change the turian he was. Working with the Cabals, the charcoal-plated male had learned that. And because of those years, dashing preconceived notions about barefaced, he’d be able to help the rest of them through this change whether or not it was permanent.

Glacial-blue eyes found his vivid green ones, gratitude written in them. The sniper might’ve said something, but Tiran just flicked his mandibles in a small smile and shook his head. Subtly telling him not to worry.

Behind him, Doctor T’Soni stood up from her seat on the couch. Walking towards the rest of them to the Commander’s side. She took the human’s hand in her own and pulled him along with he and Solana. Without needing an explanation, she understood.

The doctor didn’t look back as they exited the room, the doors closing behind the quartet with a near silent hiss. The library opened around the corner from the _maldis'_ main entryway, where Sol immediately stalked off in the direction of the clan wing. Her talons clicking against the warm stone floors, uncaring of the noise she made.

Not one bit herself.

He made to follow her, but a small _ahem_ beside him made him pause a moment. Tiran turned back to the pair of aliens, humming an apology at them.

“Do you think they’ll be alright?” the asari asked him, her tone gentle and concerned as her cerulean eyes glanced towards the closed doors and then back to find his green ones.

Looking between the two of them, the surgeon blew out a long sigh, his voice strong with conviction when he replied, “They will be.”

“Who will be?” came a voice from around the corner, by the main doors. Tiran froze, attention snapping towards the sound of booted feet rounding the from the entryway. Adrien’s head was tilted in question, his form more imposing than the doctor had ever seen it as he wore his jet black medium-weighted armor. Bright red accents running through the seams.

“Adrien.” Both he and the Commander greeted simultaneously. While Tiran’s voice was more nervous, Shepard’s was relieved. Because of that difference, the turian let the other male answer the question.

“Garrus and his father,” the human explained, his gaze shifted from the Primarch to himself. “You should go after Solana. I’ll fill Adrien in.”

“Yeah…” the doctor agreed with a nod, knowing less about the specifics than Shepard seemed to in this moment. And, if he was honest, he wanted to go after Sol… despite wanting to make sure that Garrus was going to be alright, Adrien was here… and she needed him more.

While the charcoal male didn’t quite know how his slate counterpart would react to seeing his mate like that, he had to say something before he left. White-painted mandibles pulled in tightly to his cheeks as his green eyes met forbidding gold. “What he’s done… it doesn’t change anything. He’s still Garrus, alright?”

Heavy mandibles flared in confusion as the elder turian took him in. Tried to parse the meaning of his words. Tiran shook his head before he could ask, and he turned away to chase after his partner. Leaving varied trio standing in the hallway watching him go.

He felt like shit for doing it. But he had to trust that the Commander knew what he was doing when he dismissed him to go after Solana.

The grand hallways were empty as he jogged through them towards the clan wing, in search of his love. He slowed to a stop at the doors to the _Caman_ , having found her there more than once, calmly staring into a steaming mug at the island counter. That had been a favored location for her to wait out her brother’s numerous procedures before he’d returned to Palaven.

Three of his siblings, Pelen, Alli and Gralga were there instead, bickering over what kind of spices to use on the levo version of dinner. They didn’t notice him thankfully, and he retreated before they did. Knowing, without a doubt, they’d pull him into the argument. He didn’t have time for that, or time to explain what was going on.

Tiran continued on his search, toe talons clicking against the floors as he went. Trebia was just beginning to set and the automated lights throughout the _maldis_ were beginning to brighten. The next place he checked was the smaller courtyard at the centre of the clan wing, another favored place of Solana’s. She couldn’t make a plant grow worth a damn, but that didn’t stop her from loving the space. It was overgrown, lack of hands to care for it made it easy for Palaven’s hearty plantlife to overtake the space.

The evening air was cool, clear skies letting off the heat of the day. Some of the flowering plants were beginning to open as he peered into the radiation shielded courtyard. The charcoal-plated male was about to give up on this location too when he heard her voice, “Tiran?”

He hummed back a warm greeting in confirmation, vivid green irises scanning the garden once more before spotting her sitting in one of the silver-leafed trees. Her back was against the trunk, arms crossed over her keel. One long, muscular leg hanging down from the branch. He walked towards her at an even pace, catching her gaze with his own once he was close enough to see her face through the branches.

She didn’t come down.

He sighed, leaning his shoulder against the tree below her with his hands clasped in front of him. Her bare foot was beside his head and the fleeting wonder of how she’d gotten up there came and went quickly from his mind. They waited in silence for a handful of minutes, the barely there breeze providing backdrop to the sounds of Palaven’s night creatures waking.

Trebia continued to dip until twilight came. There should have been stars coming visible, but residual smog in the atmosphere blocked them from view. Menae would start to rise soon, bringing light that the stars couldn’t. When that happened, the bioluminescent flowers would all open, brightening the gardens in erie greens and blues.

“Are you just going to stand there?” the willowy female asked him eventually. Her words were a bit harsh, but the tone light enough to know that she’d cooled off. Snark intact.

The doctor took a moment to cough into his cowl before he looked upwards, she was staring down at him. Those icy-blue eyes capturing his own, narrowed just slightly with annoyance.

“Probably.” He grinned, tilting his head to the side enough to give her a view of the edge of his throat. The playful surrender working as planned as she gave him an exasperated sigh and dropped from the tree.

She landed gracefully in front of him, long legs absorbing the impact like a spring. Arms at her sides as she stood straight. “Probably?” came the challenge.

White and charcoal mandibles flicked in a smile as the black set of talons on her right hand came up to press against his keel. He moved at her command, back rolling until he was pressed, flat backed, into the tree’s trunk. “Definitely.”

The melodic trill of her laugh made him relax. Knowing that he’d gotten through by simply waiting her out. When she was ready, she’d talk. He wouldn’t push.

A step forwards brought her close enough to him that he could feel the warmth pouring off her plates. The charcoal-plated turian loved that about his partner, she was a constant source of heat. Years of working with biotics had left him favoring those who ran hot, and Solana’s tightly muscled body always had an abundance of it.

Solana’s proximity had his breath catching, the dove-plated turian looking positively predatory as she moved into his space. He was certain that she’d feel his heart rate increase under her palm. Admittedly, he loved that about her too.

Her mouth came to his, a soft lick asking him for entrance which he gave more than willingly as his hands wrapped around her supportive hips. The slow dance only lasted long enough for Reverie to mellow both their nerves before Sol melted into his embrace. Light crest falling to his darker shoulder. With the slight lean he had against the tree she was taller than him.

“Why did he do it?” asked rhetorically, face turning to press against his throat. Taking comfort in his scent and presence.

The answer to that question was too difficult for Tiran to answer, and he told her as much with a reassuring hum. Making his chest rumble in comfort, the deep tone vibrating between them through their touching chests.

“He… he needs it back. He’s not clanless.”

“That’s his decision, Sol. Not ours.” Before she could argue he continued, one of his hands sliding upwards to trace the lines of her mandible, thumb brushing across her blue marks. “It doesn’t change who he is, it’s just paint.”

“But-”

The ex-Cabal physician pulled away enough to look her in the eyes, asking her to trust him with the expression alone. “I’ve worked with hundreds of barefaced, Sol. Believe me when I tell you it changes nothing. All we can do is offer our support.”

Solana nodded and pressed into his touch.

They would get through this trial, just like all the others. Everything that happens had brought them here. He just needed to remember that.

+-+-+-+

Adrien left his watcher at the doors to the _maldis_ , Lieutenant Nerys Vok and her colleagues had become a fairly regular fixture in his life for the moment. As had the set of armor adorning him, the black and red suit gleaming in the late evening light. Corinthus had heavily suggested both the bodyguard and the armor in the interim. ‘ _Just until the separatists have been taken care of,_ ’ he’d said.

The Primarch snorted at the memory once he was alone in the entryway, running his gloved hands across his lengthy fringe. At the least he could have some privacy inside the _maldis_.

It was uncomfortable wearing armor after spending the past few months in plain clothes. He was unused to the weight on his shoulders while he sat at his desk and stood at the conference table. Not to mention dealing with the stifling heat of the day. Even high-grade armor could only do so much against Trebia in summer. Especially when he had the wrong weight of undersuit to keep him cooler.

Absentmindedly, the slate-coloured male made a mental note to ask his Advisor if he had something lighter around. Or if not him, then Castis might. Both of the Vakarian males were near enough his size that one of theirs would fit well enough.

He’d allowed himself to grow a little soft in the plates over the past few months. More politician than General. That, he decided, angered him more than being forced into armor in the first place. There was little time to run combat drills while trying to oversee the recovery of the entire Hierarchy. A few short workouts a week and hitting the range once or twice a month wasn’t enough to keep him sharp and he hated it.

The sound of a door opening and talons clicking harshly against the stone as someone ran deeper into the _maldis_ pulled him from his internal tirade. Three sets of footsteps followed, voices accompanying them.

“Do you think they’ll be alright?” He recognized the voice to be Liara’s serene tone in an instant. She sounded upset and that made him immediately concerned. He followed the voices, needing to know what was going on.

Tiran’s voice came next, just before he rounded the corner. “They will be.”

“Who will be?” he asked, crest tilted to the side in question.

“Adrien.” Tiran and the third member of the trio, Commander Shepard, greeted simultaneously.

“Garrus and his father,” the human explained, his gaze shifted from him to the younger turian. “You should go after Solana. I’ll fill Adrien in.”

“Yeah…” the doctor agreed with a nod, He appeared concerned, stressed, with his mandibles pulled in tightly against his face and his eyes slowly moving to meet his own. “What he’s done… it doesn’t change anything. He’s still Garrus, alright?”

The Primarch’s own heavier-set mandibles flared in confusion as he took in his younger counterpart. The meaning wasn’t abundantly clear, but Tiran shook his head before he could ask what he meant. Instead the doctor jogged off deeper into the _maldis_ , leaving him alone with their guests, Shepard and Liara.

Once Tiran was out of sight, the towering male turned back towards the Commander. “Can one of you explain what that was about?”

“I'm not sure how well you're going to take this... “ Shepard began, his large blue eyes concerned as they flicked between him and the door. “Garrus had a rough morning.”

Adrien bit his tongue to keep from snarling at the human. His patience low from the… well everything... the past year, but especially low because of the terrible day stuffed in uncomfortable armor. “Explain,” is what he bit out instead, holding himself back from yelling.

“He removed his markings.”

Golden eyes blinked in surprise, his entire body recoiled at the idea that Garrus would do that to himself. Adrien took a pace backwards, and his head flinched away as well, chin tilting down in an unconscious effort to cover his throat. “He… he what?”

Liara’s hand closed over the Commander’s shoulder in a show of support as she took over the explanation. “This morning he told his sister about Wrex and Lantar. Solana came to us, worried about him.”

“By the time I got there it was already done. We talked for a while, there's a lot going on with him. More than the war. It's like… slowing down finally gave him a chance to process everything.” Shepard’s hand closed over the pale blue one on his shoulder and he glanced back towards her. “I don't think any one of us knows the whole story besides Garrus himself. He mentioned things I've never even heard of. Hastatim?”

Adrien's jaw finally unlocked at the mention of his mate’s old squadron. The idea of barefacing himself made more sense with that word on the table and the solution too. Putting a lid on his anger for the moment he stepped towards the doors. “I'll handle it.”

“Adrien…”

He didn't turn towards the human.

“Just… be careful. There's a lot going on under the surface. I don't even think he knows what's going on.”

He nodded as he hit the panel to open the door. “I do.” The Primarch answered him smoothly before striding into the library. The doors shutting behind him, the slight ‘tic’ noise as they closed didn't do his mood justice.

Golden irises took in the large room, the neatly organized shelves, the well set out spaces for reading and study. The warm brown colour palate of the space made it feel cozy and warm despite the high ceilings.

The two occupants of the room were near one another. Garrus sitting on the stiff worn-leather couch staring into the depths of a steaming mug like it had all life's answers at the bottom of it. Castis was beside him, on his knees sweeping something, glass by the sound of it, up off the floor. The low kava table had been pushed out so that he could work, but when the doors closed the elder male looked up towards him.

Castis wasn't surprised to see Adrien standing there, but he was guilty. The unhidden set of his mandibles and the deep sadness in the glacial gaze that matched his mate’s betrayed his feelings. The elder male pulled back to sit on his haunches, the dustpan placed on the kava table just within arm’s reach.

Without a word, Adrien crossed the room. Removing one of his thick metal gauntlets as he did so. When he reached his mate he dropped down in front of him, the distinct crunching sound of glass came from under his plated knee. The glove was dropped beside him as the bare hand slid around the back of his mate’s fringe. With his free hand he took the mug away, out stretching his long arm to place it on the table.

Slate-grey met pale as the darker male pressed their crests together for a moment, a soothing hum began in his chest and he held the position until Garrus started to respond. It wasn’t much. Not really. But from the statue still his mate had been since he entered, the tiniest of reciprocation when the black taloned hand reached out to grab his arm felt like a marathon had just been run.

Storm-gold eyes opened as Adrien pulled away. Tracing the bare lines of his mate’s face for a moment before turning to glare at Castis. If looks could kill, he was certain his bonded father would have been vaporized.

The male flinched away from them before standing and walking away towards the doors to give them space. The armored turian thought he was going to leave, but instead he could hear him at the small kitchenette. Doing… something….

It didn't matter.

His attention was back on his mate now.

Hands left Garrus for a moment, only long enough for him to remove his other glove before returning. The Primarch said nothing. There was nothing to say to this. Instead he offered himself, the warmth of his hands and his voice as he rumbled comfort. Not sympathy. Never that. He could never share the feelings his mate had for he’d never had such terrible things happen to him. Yes, Kalla had died. Tarquin too. But they’d loved him until the end, died honorably. His son a war hero, despite all the mistakes.

Garrus had loved those who’d failed him, more times than Adrien cared to count. As far as he was concerned, that started with Castis. His own father had betrayed him and he didn’t even know it.

Something must have been let slip through, as suddenly a glacial set of eyes opened to find his own golden ones waiting. Where the Primarch had hoped to see a calming version of his mate he saw fear and rejection. The line of him stiffened and pulling away.

“I... I… I’m sorry…” Garrus was stumbling over his words, voice small and pained.

“No no no, love no. It’s not you.” He backpedaled. Needing for the terror to leave. Needing Garrus to come back into his arms. The anger that he felt towards Castis needed to go away. It wasn’t helping. It was hurting. “Please love, come here.”

It took only a moment before he had a face pressed into the curve of his neck, arms around his lower back as Garrus joined him on the floor. As a sob wracked his mate’s body he held him tightly against his armored chest, wishing all the more that it was off. Wanting to comfort and care for his mate. It took a handful of minutes before he calmed to silence again, still refusing to look at him.

“You aren’t clanless, my love. I’m right here.”

Garrus’ crest pressed harder into his hide as he shook his head, choking out the words, “Don’t deserve it.”

His steady baritone rumbled in disagreement as he smoothed a hand across the back of his cowl. If there was someone here who didn’t deserve their paint, it was his father. And as the elder male returned, placing a fresh mug down on the table, he turned his anger to its rightful place. His eyes were narrowed as he caught his bonded-father’s.

“Castis, tell your son what you did, otherwise I’ll do it myself.”

At the biting anger in his words, Garrus pulled back from him. He didn’t let go, but there was obvious confusion in his foggy gaze. In the mild quirk to his mandibles.

“What are you talking about?” the sniper asked hesitantly, looking from him to his father. “Dad?”

The elder male was not usually so expressive, but as he sat down on the opposing couch with his shoulders slumped and mandibles drawn in tightly to his face, Adrien could see the regret and heart ache. Now, after all this time, he would finally speak up.

“Tell me what?” Garrus repeated when neither of the others were forthcoming.

Adrien pulled them both up to sit down on the sofa. Holding tight onto his mate, one arm around his waist and the other clasped in his hand. Jet-black armor pressed into Garrus’ side, despite the likely discomfort he was causing with the unforgiving metal and ceramic plates that covered his own, the slate-coloured male knew his mate would need that support.

“Did... “ Castis began to speak, only needing to restart once before the, usually stoic, male managed a full sentence. “Did anyone ever tell you why you were released from Spectre Candidacy after basic?”

The Primarch had been watching his mate instead of his bonded-father, and he saw the way he recoiled from the question. It was unexpected, a source of deeply buried hurt. He gripped tighter onto Garrus’ hand, lending support in the only way he could.

“No.”

The elder male couldn’t meet either of their eyes as he ground his teeth together and bore a hole into the floor with his glacial gaze. “I’m the reason, Garrus.”

His mate blinked a few times, confused by his father’s statement. “What?”

“I got you expelled,” he told him, voice even as he finally looked up. “I pulled in all the favors I had to get you out. Because I was afraid that we’d lose you. I didn’t trust that I done a good enough job instilling my beliefs into you. My sense of justice.”

“I… I don’t get it…”

Castis inhaled a long breath, steadying himself to keep on. “The only reason you were picked up for Hastatim was because of me. You thought you’d done something bad enough to deserve it, that it was your punishment for whatever you’d done to get yourself expelled. But that isn’t it at all, son. It was me.”

Garrus’ mandibles were slackened, his own eyes dropping to the floor as he tried to process what his father was telling him. Black talons dug into the ceramic plate on Adrien’s forearm, the pressure making it creak. “But… I thought…”

“You had the exact skill set Hastatim looks for when recruiting. A police sniper, good enough to be called up for the Spectres but returned to the homeworld. Despite the clan telling you to refuse, you went willingly. Told your mother and I that you didn’t deserve any better the day you left. I should have told you then. I didn’t. I couldn’t.”

“Did… did mom...”

“No!” Castis didn’t even let him finish the question. “She’d never have agreed with what I’d done.” He sat back on the couch his hands scrubbing his face for a moment before he found more words. Without facing the pair watching him, he continued. “I tried everything to get you out Garrus. When I finally did… you weren’t the same. It’s my fault. The only one that doesn’t deserve their paint is me.”

Silence stretched on for a few long beats. Long enough for the tension to ebb from the sniper’s spine. His entire being to relax. Adrien said nothing of the change, waiting patiently while he processed the, admittedly soul crushing facts and not knowing how he was going to react.

“Dad...” Garrus called for his father’s attention, when Castis made no move he said it again, with more emphasis. “ _Dad_.”

The second time worked.

Hands fell from their place covering his face and the older Vakarian met the younger one’s matching eyes. Garrus stood up, giving Adrien’s talons a squeeze before moving out of his grasp to stand in front of his father. He motioned for him to stand, and so he did. Ready to meet him, ready for whatever kind of punishment his son had in store if the submissive expression on his face was any indication. If he needed to yell or strike him, or just spit in his face.

Garrus however, did none of those things.

He placed a hand on his father’s shoulder and pressed his crest to his father’s temple. His second voice speaking forgiveness that words couldn’t express. After the initial shock was over, Castis wrapped his arms around his son.

“I’m so sorry, Garrus.”

“Thank you for telling me all this. It… it helps.”

Adrien could see Castis’ hands tighten on his son’s back. Pulling him in tighter, his sub harmonics full of anguish and apology. He could feel his own anger ebbing at the forgiveness his mate gave willingly to his father, even if he didn’t quite understand why it was given so easily. He wanted to be mad, furious for his partner’s misfortune. But seeing the unemotive parent breaking apart, and the male’s hot-headed son soothing him, brought a shift to the tide.

With everything out in the open, the demons might finally find a place to rest.

+-+-+-+-

It took a long time for either him, or his dad to be ready to pull away from one another, and it was probably going to take a lot more time before he fully processed everything that he’d just been told. However, in this moment, knowing that he hadn’t been a failure all those years ago, was enough. It actually made him feel physically lighter. Like he could breathe for the first time in years.

When Garrus let go, he took a pace backwards. Just far enough to look his father in the eyes. “I won’t admit to agreeing, but I think I understand.”

The elder male couldn’t hold his gaze, blinking as he nodded and let him go. “I…” he paused, words escaping him. “Thank you, Garrus.”

The sniper’s mandibles spread in a small, relieved smile as he turned to face his mate. There was something he needed to fix before the night was out. Something that would probably help settle the entire _maldis_ , and admittedly himself most of all. He held up his right hand, it shook mildly from residual tiredness and the fact his nerves were still healing.

“I think I’m going to need some help,” he admitted to the black-armored male.

Adrien stood up, understanding him and taking the distance between them in a matter of two long paces before pulling their crests together. Humming pleasantly, calming the last edges of his frayed nerves. “Of course, love. Always.”

Garrus swallowed down the intense affection he felt for his mate in that moment, purring his love for him until the darker male broke off to grab his gauntlets off the couch. He didn’t replace them, instead just tucked them under his arm and wrapped his free hand around Garrus’ lower back. Despite the hard metal, the sniper appreciated the contact.

His father let them go without further comment, falling back to the settee silently.

It didn’t take them long to make their way to the clan wing. As they passed the _Caman_ they could hear the voices of some of the Melandra clansmen laughing and chatting as they made dinner. It felt good to have the home filled again.

He missed the noise.

By the time they made it through the archway, the sky was beginning to lighten again outside. He could see the courtyard start to come alive with the luminescent flowers and the rays bouncing off of a slow-rising Menae. Nanus was still hidden for the day, wouldn’t be pulled up by his sister until later on.

They rounded the courtyard to make for the clan washrooms, and nearly made it all the way there before two more turians appeared in front of them. Walking arm-in-arm up from the gardens. Sol and Tiran.

The sniper was the first to spot them, Solana following just a half second after. He saw her tense in the dim hallway lights, worry written in the line of her spine. The set of her delicate mandibles and shoulders.

“Garrus-” she began.

But he shook his head, giving Adrien’s hand a quick squeeze before closing the distance and pulling her into his chest just like he’d done with his father. His crest to her temple. Soothing, both apologetic and forgiving, tones falling from his throat.

It took her just as long to respond as it had taken his dad. Though her hug was more fierce. Her own melodic voice just as sorry as their parent’s had been. “It’s ok, Sol. Dad helped me understand some things.”

“You’re a part of this family, G.”

He pulled back, placing his hand on her cheek and running a thumb across her colony markings. “I know.”

“Good,” she replied with conviction. “That sounds more like you.”

Laughing, he let go. Adrien coming up from behind him and steering them away. Before they passed Tiran, he gave the doctor a nod which the charcoal male smiled at and returned.

There was still a lot that he needed to work out. Still too much that he didn’t understand. But maybe… just maybe… Tiquette could help him with that. At the least, he was willing to try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On to happier times!


	31. I'll Be Ok

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Learning to heal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slightly happier chapter prepped and ready for you on schedule! NSFW my friends. 
> 
> To my lovely beta, thank you!! [**Spicy_Gnome**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Spicy_Gnome/pseuds/Spicy_Gnome)
> 
> Our inspirational song of the week, [**I’ll Be Ok by Nothing More**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=78pH07RFqmY)

 

Now that Garrus had been settled, there was only one thing on Adrien’s mind; getting free of the uncomfortable, over-warm armor coverings that he’d been forced to endure for the day. It was absolutely stifling in Palaven’s heat.

As the pair entered the washroom on the clan side of the _maldis_ alone, the tall male began tearing off his armor. Metal and ceramic parts clanged against the soft-blue tiles, he was uncaring of where they fell. He just needed it off. _Now._

Pale-grey hands on his own stopped him before he’d managed to get past the arms to his chestplate. The sniper was in his space, glacial-blues calming the storm that had been brewing in his own golden eyes. He relented to his partner, allowing the slightly shorter male to undo the clasps properly and place each piece of the heavy gear down carefully on the countertop. He did it almost with a sort of reverence about the mundane task. One that they’d only shared a handful of times.

Even less times had it been Adrien’s own gear, typically it was Garrus’. The absent thought about what had happened to his blue and silver heavy armor passed through his mind, he’d been about to ask when the younger male broke the silence instead.

“I’m sorry,” his partner whispered against his hip as he slid down to his knees, beginning to work on the greaves. Each move methodical and slow.

“Sorry?” Adrien repeated, unbelieving.

_‘What in the Spirits’ names did his mate have to be sorry for?’_

The glacial-eyed turian didn’t answer straight away. Instead, taking his time with the rest of the armor first. It wasn’t until he stood back up, arms full of everything but boots, that he said anything in response. “Not exactly what you need to be coming home to.”

The Primarch let out a huff of disagreement, peeling the undersuit from his torso as younger male put the rest of the armor on the counter. His long arms wrapped around Garrus from behind, mouth coming to rest along the curve of his neck by the bondmarking he’d left there a year ago. The near perfect ring of teeth was scarred over, having been reopened a few times to ensure it would remain on his hide. Just like the matching one on his own left shoulder.

“I always need to come home to you, my love.” Adrien’s deeper voice rolled into a soothing bass rumble of affection as he nuzzled into warm, clean hide. Tension dropped from strong shoulders as Garrus relaxed back into him with a relieved little sigh of his own. Seeming to understand that he hadn’t been the cause of the frustration.

“I want to feel your plates on mine,” the sniper told him with a small smile pulling at the edges of his bare mandibles. The stormy-eyed turian backed off enough to allow his mate to pull off the thin black shirt he’d been wearing. Their eyes met in the mirror over Garrus’ shoulder for only a moment before gold dipped down to trace the bare plains of his plates where cobalt should have been.

It was unsettling.

Adrien turned Garrus around in his arms, pinning him lightly to the counter with his lithe hips for a moment. A taloned hand sliding upwards across the lean, tight waist before tracing the line of his tawny-brown throat, bringing his mate’s face up enough to look him straight in the eyes.

“Would it be alright for me to see what the Victus markings look like on you?”

There was a tiny nod of assent before their mouths met in the middle. Searching for the calming source of reverie that they could only find in one another. Bonding chemistry making the hormone so much more potent. Tongues danced around one another while Adrien’s hands traced along the blank panes of Garrus’ face, all the complex lines he’d paint across the grey canvas a few shades lighter than his own.

When they broke it was only for breath.

His lover nuzzled into his throat for a moment before letting him move to the basket of hygiene products that he’d begun to leave at the Vakarian _maldis_. He pulled Garrus’ as well, for afterwards. As much as he wanted to see what the ex-detective looked like in his own colours, he would miss the familiar cobalt-blue if it was gone permanently. He liked the way it set off the lighter colouring in his eyes. White on grey just wouldn’t have the same effect.

The Vakarian scion had moved to follow him, pulling out a pair of stools for them to sit on. He sat with his back to the long silver countertop, leaving space for the elder male between his thighs. In order to paint the lines he’d need to get in close, using his own face for reference in the mirror.

“Been a long time since I’ve painted someone else,” he told his mate as he sat down to remove his boots.

In Adrien’s peripherals he saw Garrus give him a single-armed shrug, “Been a long time since I’ve had fresh paint.” His barefaced mate turned away, stretching backwards to pick through his own basket. When he’d found the touch-up paint, he shook the small bottle in his hands. “It’s a good thing this stuff has a long shelf life.”

Without much to say to that, Adrien refrained. Instead he finished with his boots before stripping the undersuit off of himself entirely. The warm, damp air of the room was almost chilly against over-warmed plates. And the little sigh of relief the, usually stoic, male made wasn’t missed by his partner.

“Shower first?” the sniper asked him when he’d returned from dropping the rest of his gear off, the ghost of a smile passing across his bare face.

“Are you saying I need one?” Adrien teased, sliding his talons around the back of his lover’s long fringe as he leaned in for another taste of reverie.

“Mhm…” came the mumbled reply, and with it a deep intake of breath. “Wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

A gentle press of crests preceded his pulling away as Adrien grabbed the sniper’s scrub instead of his own and wandered towards the shower stalls. His reasoning for choosing his mate’s scent was two fold, half for his own selfishness in wanting to be reminded of Garrus when he wasn’t there the next day. The rest was wanting his mate to know he was wanted.

Choosing the stall closest to his mate he turned on the water and stepped underneath the quickly warming spray. His groan of content when the water caressed his tired muscles was almost obscene. The only thing louder than it was Garrus’ chuckle as he watched on. For a moment the slate-grey turian just focused on ridding himself of the day’s stress, the soothing earthy scent of rainwater from the scrub mellowing him out.

Lightning-gold eyes opened after a minute to find glacial-blue watching with rapt attention. The bottle of paint sat forgotten in the barefaced turian’s palm, he’d stopped fiddling with it. A small victory in itself.

He wished he knew why Garrus had chosen today to remove his markings. There had to have been a catalyst larger than his sister learning of Wrex and Lantar. Somehow Adrien doubted that she knew about the assault. But then again… she might. There was so much hidden inside his mate, so many levels. Too much in the darkest depths of his spirit for any turian to bear alone.

For now, there was nothing he could do but be there for him. And today that meant repainting his markings. Affirming his love by sharing his own, if only for a short time.

There were two kinds of paint, the more acidic permanent one that stained through layers of plate which was used as the base for colony markings. And it’s milder cousin, like the one Garrus held, more of a cosmetic used for touch-ups in fashion and ceremony. While the former took a painful chemical stripper to remove, as his partner would have done to himself earlier, the latter required only a soft scrub once it had dried. The acidic one lasted years and was just as painful to apply to it was to remove, while the mild paint was only good for a few days until it rubbed off with natural wear, though it didn’t hurt.

Generally permanent markings required a professional artist, or at the least a hand skilled at the particular pattern. Of which Adrien was neither, so he’d defer to an expert for Garrus’ permanent application and only use the temporary paint for now.

Musings finished, he stepped out of the shower stall and dried himself off before retaking the seat across from his Advisor. “You’re alright with this, love?”

“As long as you let me see the Vakarian ones on you next time you strip yours for a retouch? Then yeah. I’m okay.” Garrus slid his hand along Adrien’s bare thigh as he swept in for a soft touch of crests. “It might help us decide if either of us want to modify.”

“Mhm. True.”

The Primarch reached past his younger mate and picked up the small jar from his own basket and chose one of the brushes that Garrus had set out while he was busy. He’d start with the fringe and work his way down so it didn’t smudge. It didn’t need to be perfect as they were going to wash it off before it dried, but due to the complexity of the design it would take some time.

Adrien sat up a little straighter, opening the paint and coating the brush with white before moving it to his mate’s fringe. Garrus automatically tilted his head forwards for him, making it easier to work. His deep voice took on a focused hum as he began, golden eyes tracing the lines before his hand followed.

It was slow work, methodical as the brush strokes slid across pale-grey fringe. The brightness of the white not lost in the paleness of the sniper’s plates as he’d feared it might.

Only the slow drip of water from the shower faucet broke the silence between them.

A strong hand on Garrus’ chin angled his face to the unscarred side once he’d finished with the fringe, the long thick line from the rear of the mandible to its point was next. Golden eyes flicked up to confirm he had the correct thickness before coming back down. His own paint was faded at the mandible joint, it was always the first spot to wear as it rubbed the interior of his helmet when he spoke.

When Adrien came to his partner’s left eye he stopped a moment, the blue gaze downcast and slightly unsure. Under the guise of switching brushes he took his time collecting himself. Trying to think of a way to both reassure him and sooth the lingering fears he could see in those eyes. When nothing immediate came to mind, he continued determined to think on it. The thinner brush handling the unique forked-shape under the eye and across his mouth plates.

The centre of design was mirrored, and he finished the left side completely first. Coming to a stop once again to check it over and ensure he hadn’t missed anything. Fingers gently moved Garrus’ face from left to right before pulling him back to centre.

Curiosity had replaced the sadness when blue met gold.

The look Garrus gave him was so intense that Adrien stopped, shocked for how absolutely beautiful his mate was. Even half painted and exhausted.

There was a certain brightness his glacial gaze took on when he was trying to figure something out. The inner investigator coming to the forefront, for as much as he fought it, he would always have that side to him. Bred deep in his bones.

He held the gaze and with all the force he could portray, Adrien tried to tell his bondmate how much he loved him with the look alone. Tried to make him understand by force of will, that he was loved. Was important.

+-+-+

For the first time, Garrus believed his mate.

He reached out his hand to wrap within Adrien’s. Squeezing tightly.

+-+-+

Their mouths met in the middle, paint smudging as tongues danced between them. Ferocious and wanting. The two males coming together, standing from the stools and stumbling until the younger one had pinned his mate’s hips to the counter. Hands trailing across strong shoulders, catching on hard plate.

“I don’t know how I didn’t see it,” Garrus panted against his lover’s mouth when they finally broke for breath.

Adrien didn’t answer him. Instead he stole another long fought for kiss. His talons carding across his mate’s fringe, unintentionally spreading the paint across the length of it. Not only ruining the design, but whiting his palms in the process. He might’ve cared once, but right now with Garrus pressed tightly against him -aggressive and wanting- the Primarch found that he didn’t.

His deep bass moan broke the steady quiet of the evening. His mate’s needy growl eating it right up. Tongue pressing into his mouth, tracing the line of his own muscle before finding the glands to produce more of the addictive substance. Making the both lightheaded and ready, seams widening and dampness starting to spread.

The slight tremor in Garrus’ newly healed arm wasn’t missed, but it was ignored as the sniper picked him up by the backs of his thighs to place him on the high counter. Black talons dug into Adrien’s tight muscles, kneading between plates to ease the tension. His mouth followed the trail of his mates heavy mandible downwards to tease at softer neck hide.

A sharp intake of breath was all Adrien gave him verbally, however his body reacted more strongly. Hips grinding against the wider pair between his knees. Length descending into the warm humid air of the blue-tiled room.

The light-grey male didn’t take long to join him. One palm caressing his blue-grey length before sliding the side of his finger along the Primarch’s, making him arch into the contact and need to grasp the younger male’s shoulders to stabilize himself.

Storm-gold eyes opened to find ice-blue watching him, breathing hard and waiting. Adrien’s hand slid to his mate’s damaged mandible and he pulled their mouths together once more.

When they finally parted Garrus’ eyes were looking decidedly at his mouth, shoulders shaking with mirth. He almost asked why before catching on, sliding his gaze across his mate’s face. All his work absolutely ruined.

White paint was smudged on his mouth plates, the fringe design no longer a pattern so much as it was a smear. Adrien pulled his palms away from Garrus’ shoulders and sure enough there were multiple handprints. The majority of the markings on his faceplates were correct, they just weren’t quite as crisp as they should have been.

“I like this,” Garrus told him as he drew his talon across the bare side of his crest, mimicking the centre swoop that was the focal point of Adrien’s own markings. “Think it’d look alright in blue?”

“Mhm. I think so. And maybe here as well,” the Primach’s talon slid along his own nasal plates, highlighting the more geometric portion of the pattern.

Garrus stifled a laugh when his hand came away, apparently there was still enough wet paint of his hand to leave more traces behind. “Those too.”

The white painted crest that wasn’t smudged shook with Adrien’s amused, and only slightly frustrated, sigh. He was however, smiling. As was his mate.

“Come here,” the lighter male told him as he pulled their mouths back together. Taking a strong dose of reverie and sharing it in kind. “I want you.”

“You have me, love.” Adrien whispered against his mouth plates.

With the affirmation given, hands became more possessive. More needy. Trailing over hips spurs and his length before one moved to the elder male’s entrance to coax it open for him. That task required very little effort, the Primarch was well relaxed for his mate. Wanting to give as much as Garrus wanted, or needed to take.

Adrien’s long athletic legs wound around the backs of Garrus’ knees, pulling him in closer. His hands traced the line of the Advisor’s spine upwards and across his cowl to rest on the back of his fringe, pulling him in to touch crests as entry began.

The sniper completed the movement in one long, slow stroke. Pressing his flared head in and past Adrien’s entrance smoothly, hilting himself before waiting for them both to adjust. Breaths were shared between them as they worked through the intensity. Hands soothing one another, sliding across shower damped plate and warm hide.

It didn’t take long before they were both ready to start moving, the golden-eyed male encouraging his partner with a roll of his hips and a moan. Garrus took advantage of the roll, turning it into a strong rhythm. Causing the noises to increase as friction took hold and drew out their pleasure.

Slow and steady. No need to hurry to a finish.

Just the sound of breath, drips of water hitting the tile, and the scrape of plate on plate echoed in the large space. The scent of rainwater filled their senses. Eyes shut, otherwise it might be too intense. Everything was bringing the two males closer to the inevitable end.

When Garrus’ hand wrapped around Adrien’s length it was enough to pull him over, sending first him and then the younger male tumbling down. Cries were swallowed by one another’s mouths. Tongues dragging the last ounces of pleasure from the act.

There would be more trials to overcome. More truths to unveil and lies to squash. But in this moment, wrapped in one another’s arms, it was enough.

+-+-+-+-

In the pre-dawn hours Solana slipped silently through the _maldis_. Not another soul was awake at this hour, and in all honesty she probably shouldn’t have been either. But this morning was an important one, one that she’d been planning for months. One that she wouldn’t dare miss as the event only came once in a Palaven year.

The barefacing incident aside, the household was calming down and settling to a more normal speed again. Dinner had gone smoothly the night before, everyone enjoyed the meal and in all honesty it had been nice to get to talk to Shepard and Liara without it being at Garrus’ bedside. The Blackwatch agent, turned Shadow Broker informant, liked having the opportunity to speak with the pair in a social setting, hearing about the glory days and better times on the _Normandy._

Hearing Garrus laugh alongside Shepard and join in on the storytelling had an immense settling effect on her Spirit. Even if their father had been pecululary quiet throughout the evening.

Her bare taloned feet made no sound against the warm stone floors as she trotted along to the _Caman._ Slipping inside she closed the door behind her to block the sound of the kava maker. While the system ran she busied herself with getting a pair of thermoses warmed for the short trip they’d be making after she woke Tiran.

It had taken a few weeks of prodding his family, calls to her partner’s old friends and one half baked attempt at asking an information broker, but the dove-plated turian had managed to figure out what the doctor’s favorite kava blend was. It was unique to a café on the Citadel that he’d used to frequent when he worked for Huerta Memorial. A recipe passed down through the family of salarians who owned it.

She wasn’t usually much of a kava drinker, but Tiran absolutely loved the stuff. Lived off of the caffeinated beverage at times. When she’d first started to spend time with him during the war, after she’d healed well enough from the operation on her leg, he never seemed to be without a mug. The charcoal-plated male was always working, constantly tending patients and when he wasn’t doing that, he was on the coms giving remote medical advice to other ships.

On the refugee ship, Solana learned a lot about the green-eyed male, she got to know him quickly and fell in love just as fast. Maybe not as fast as Garrus had for Adrien, but enough to want to pursue the relationship beyond their forced proximity. It was a large part of why she’d so readily invited him and his family into the _maldis_.

Getting a hold of the unique kava brand, and the specific instructions for making it, had taken a personal letter and no small amount of begging. Her friend, and fellow Blackwatch agent, Nerys Vok delivered it for her while on assignment there before she was assigned to be a Watcher for both her born and mated brothers. The other female was the only soul she’d told her plans to.

Nerys had been sworn to secrecy on the promise that she’d be included in the bonding ceremony should Tiran agree. The scrappy, amber-eyed turian was her best friend, her confidant, and would have been included regardless so the promise was an easy one for Solana to make.

When the kava maker pinged it’s happy little finishing tone, Sol filled the thermoses and made for the Clan wing. The halls were empty as she passed, the chill of the night just starting to lift as Nanus began to set. Her ice-blue eyes caught the silhouette of Menae against the skyline, it was just bright enough to see with Nanus’ full light at his seasonal peak.

It was a perfect morning for the solstice, the longest day of the year.

Solana wanted to appreciate every moment of sunlight as she’d done when she was just a fledgling. Her mother had named her for the blessed event at the height of the growing season. It was a day to celebrate in the light, and that was what she’d always considered her daughter. A miracle fledgling. The one she’d barely survived the birth of.

By their nature, turian pregnancies were hard on the female. Some had a better time than others, like Tiran’s mother, her own had not been blessed with that ease. She’d struggled with Garrus, and her father’s family thought them crazy for trying for a second. Solana and her brother were just a year apart, only one cousin between them.

The room was pitch black when the Blackwatch agent slipped inside. She flicked a key on her omnitool to make the window coverings open enough to let in some of Nanus’ fading light. The change allowed her to see the bedroom easily, keen eyes picking out the familiar features. It was a well appointed space, decorated in a warm harvest colour scheme with yellows, reds and oranges set in with deep brown furniture.

High ceilings with the same stylish wooden beams that were spread throughout the older sections of the _maldis_ blended with the stone floors and into one of the walls. She was the lucky one with the corner room, which meant that she had a fireplace set into one exterior wall while the other held windows to the winter gardens.

It was too dark to make out right now, but above the bed her father had hand painted the branches of a blooming harvest tree. The tree that inspired it was actually the same place that she was planning to take her love that very morning, and the thought of it made her mandibles drop into a soft, excited little smile.

“ _Amore_ ,” Solana whispered when she reached the bed, placing the thermoses down on the oak-wood bedside table. “Time to wake up.”

“Hm?” Tiran grunted in his sleep, unmoving still despite the gentle talons sliding along the length of his fringe.

Her smile turned into a grin, her chosen partner was not a morning person. “Come on, Tiran. I’ve got something I want to show you.” She trailed her mouth along the line of his elongated mandibles, nipping at the sensitive plate and hide.

His smokey voice gave her a pleased moan at the attention. “If I keep pretending to sleep, will you keep that up?”

Solana shoved her shoulder into his as she pulled away. “Come on, lazy. I brought you kava.”

“Kava?” he perked up, one vivid-green eye opening while the other was still firmly planted into a leaf patterned pillow. The dove-plated female laughed, picking up his mug and passing it to her sleepy partner. He inhaled dramatically and sat up. “Is that…”

“Sure is. Special delivery from the Citadel.”

The Engineer was thankful she’d made sure it was drinking temperature before putting the lid on his mug, because without waiting he took a slow sip of the dark beverage. His pleased little moan making all the effort well worth the expense and the time it took to procure.

“Good?” she giggled, watching him hug the thermos against his mouth and take a second, smaller sip.

“The best,” he agreed, pulling her mouth to his own to share a taste of morning reverie. After a long pleasing minute, Tiran pulled back to cough into his cowl. Once his throat was cleared, he tilted his head in question, “What’s the occasion?”

“You’ll see,” Sol teased as she pulled back to stand. Before leaving for the _Caman_ she’d put out a warm cloak for each of them to wrap around bare shoulders for the walk. She tossed one to the doctor and pulled on her own. “Come on.”

Without waiting to see if he followed, she headed for the door. Tiran met her in the hallway, the jade-green cloak offset his eyes as much as her own royal-blue one did hers. In his hands he carried the pair of thermoses and he offered one to her.

“Hey, Spook? Has Trebia even started to rise yet?” he asked through a yawn as they began to walk. His arm wrapped around her trim waist, cozying into the warmth she let off.

He was the most cuddly turian she’d ever met, and she wouldn’t change it for the world.

“Not yet. But it’ll be worth it. Promise.” Sol shook her head as she replied, and led them towards the back gardens.

The promise was enough for the neurosurgeon, he followed along faithfully. His black taloned feet making light clicks against the stone as they walked in contrast with her silent steps. They were different in so many ways, from colouring to personality. How they worked so well together was anyone’s guess. It didn’t matter. All that did was his answer today.

Tiran followed faithfully as she led them through the gardens, to a place where she’d never taken him before. It was beyond the private bathhouse and training hall and the shooting range. A solid fifteen minutes walk, despite their moderate pace. The edges of twilight were beginning to show now, long shadows starting to appear from the tallest of the trees.

The biggest tree on the property came into view as the edge of Nanus disappeared below the horizon. Morning dew damped their feet as they walked through the low grasses when the path ended, swirls of shallow fog appeared as the temperature dropped the last degree to meet the dew point.

“Is that...” Tiran began with a low whistle of surprise when the treehouse came into view.

The female’s tawny-brown neck tinged blue as she hummed an affirmative tone. “My favorite spot on all of the Vakarian clan’s land.”

The treefort was enormous, large enough for all fourteen of her generation to play in at once, and, on more than one occasion, they’d had all of them up there. It was built in two sections, a lower side, around three meters up, that connected to the upper section, two meters higher, via a long slanted bridge.

They arrived at the foot of the ancient tree and she reached up to pull a rope that had been tied low to a knot on the trunk. From the old fort’s entrance a ladder fell. “Come on!”

The doctor laughed good-naturedly as he followed her upwards, being quite careful not to spill any kava she noticed. “Been years since I’ve even seen a treefort. We lived _-cough-_ in an apartment block when I was a fledgling, never had one.”

“This was built generations ago,” Solana admitted once they’d reached the top and slipped inside the wooden building. The sloped ceilings were low, but still tall enough for both of them to stand up comfortably at the taller end. Although, she ducked down and lead them to the shorter side since they needed to go higher still, all the way to the upper section of the construct.

The slanted bridge was grooved to allow toe talons to grasp as they climbed, the hand railings unneeded by the pair of adults. They reached the upper level and instead of going inside, the dove-plated female led her partner along the balcony to sit at it’s edge.

“Sit with me,” Solana said as she got comfortable. Her long athletic legs hanging over the edge and arms wrapped around the lower rung of the railing. She tilted her crest back to watch Tiran’s expression. He looked amused, mandibles firmly set into a smile as he humored her and sat down to sip at his drink.

It didn’t take long before he sidled up against her, sharing his warmth against the early morning chill. “Kava? Check. Beautiful setting? Check. Hm… stunning companion? Also, check. What’s missing?”

She laughed, shoving her shoulder against his while she took a sip of her own drink. “Just a few more minutes, you’ll see.”

They sat in companionable silence until Trebia began to rise above the shadowy horizon. The colours produced, though mainly caused by the pollution in the atmosphere from the war, were stunning to behold. A wave of purple light came first, followed by gleaming orange that ran into yellow until becoming nearly white before Trebia’s disc was visible.

“Wow,” the doctor breathed beside her, stunned by the sight of it. Solana wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen a solstice sunrise, or a Palaven sunrise at all for that matter. He was so highly motivated and hardworking, since she’d known him he never took more than a day’s rest.

She watched the skies change, humming a contented note in agreement. “There’s just something special about it, right?”

“Yeah... there really is.”

Solana turned to look at him and found his vivid-green eyes weren’t on the sunrise at all, they were on her. Tiran slid one arm around her slim waist, pulling her flush against his side. With his free hand, he cupped her cheek and offered his crest to her. Without hesitation she pressed up against him, locking happy eyes. “Flatterer.”

“Mhm. not flattery if it’s true…” he hummed before searching out her mouth with his own. Tasting one another as Trebia continued to rise and coat the pair of lovers in morning rays. When they were both breathless, he pulled back only far enough to share the same air. “It’s a beautiful spot, Sol.”

“Thought you’d like it,” the dove-plated turian told her darker partner. “It’s perfect weather for the solstice.”

His head tilted to the side, his white colony paint reflecting the light handsomely, “That’s today?”

“Yeah. It’s my favorite day of the year,” she told him honestly. “And well… there’s something I wanted to ask you. Officially.”

“Anything,” his elongated mandibles dropped into a smile, thumb tracing the blue lines on her mandibles as he gave his full attention. Trebia painting his charcoal plates in shadow and light as he watched her face. Solana cleared her throat, neck flushing blue as she steeled herself.

“Would you like to be my bondmate?”

His answer came in the form of a breath stealing kiss, mouths meeting and tongues dancing together until they were dizzy. “Yes. A thousand times, yes.” he whispered against her as his crest met hers. “I’ve wanted to ask you for months.”

The willowy turian chuckled, her talons tracing the lines of his colony paint. “Me too. Timing was never right. Between the war and Garrus coming home and well… everything in between. I wanted a moment of our own.”

“This?” he said as he pulled away, gesturing with a wide arm out towards the half risen turian sun. “Is perfect Solana.”

The smile on her delicate mandibles grew a little wider and Tiran’s head quirked to the side in question. “There’s one more thing we need… close your eyes.”

Once he complied, she pulled back to stand and grabbed the doctor’s hand to pull him along behind her inside the upper level of the treehouse to everything else she’d gotten ready over the course of the last few days. With a quick flick on her omnitool, romantic instrumental music began to play, one of the other tidbits she’d learned from Tiran’s University friends.

“Ok, you can open them now.”

Solana watched his face as green eyes opened to see the rest of the surprise. A little love-nest, built in the coziest of places. Pillows and blankets were piled high and twinkling lights hung from the ceiling, bathing the space in a warm glow.

“You’re right... now it’s perfect.”

With a high pitched giggle, that was entirely against her usual nature, Solana was picked up off the floor. Without prompting she wrapped her legs around Tiran’s thin waist, her hands going to his shoulders to pull at the silky fabric of the cloak he was wearing. Their mouths met again, but only long enough for a taste before Sol trailed a line of licks and nips down her lover’s jaw.

Tiran groaned in the deep gravelly baritone voice that the young Vakarian scion had come to love. He managed only the steps needed to get to the nest, carefully moving them to a more horizontal plane as he gave her throat attention with his own mouth. His talons tracing lines down the sensitive hide of her waist.

She moaned, arching into the touch.

They parted long enough to rid themselves of the remainder of their clothes. Once the two of them were bare they came back together, seams already beginning to loosen in anticipation for one another.

Solana’s talons slid across the dark expanse of her lover’s shoulders. The edges of her sharp points sliding along the interior of his cowl to make him moan for her. Tiran liked a little pain and she was willing to give it to him. The controlled slide of teeth and talon, just enough for it to hurt. Sometimes it was more the threat that did it for him, just giving himself over to her mercy.

It was always a little thrill.

His breath caught in his throat as she reached his neck, gentle talons tracing the line of him. All the way from collar along the centre of his throat to his chin she left a tiny scrapped trail. Not enough for blood -that would come later with the bond markings- but as the doctor shivered in her tightly muscled arms she knew he was hers. He belonged to her as much as she did him.

“More…”

The little request was enough for Sol to continue, her legs wrapping around his waist once again and relishing the feel of his softer waist hide against her inner thighs. His seam damp against her own as he became more and more aroused.

“Ahh~ Sol...”

Delicate mandibles spread into a grin as her hands left his throat. One sliding down the length of his chest while the other traced the back of his collar ridge. Given the free reign to move his head again, his crest came down against hers. Breaths shared between the pair of them as she touched him. The lower hand finding his seam and smoothing across it from top to bottom. Encouraging him to open for her. Wanting to see his expression as he descended from his sheath, she opened her bright-blue eyes. His lust-filled green irises were already waiting.

“Mhnnn… please.”

The request had Solana smiling and ready for him to start touching her in return. Her love always looked perfect like this, aroused and wanting. Just waiting for her to give him the okay to start too. It wasn’t about power. It was an honest part of her physiology that needed more warm up time than him. While the doctor was ready to open at a feather-light touch, she needed the mental aspect too. She nipped and licked her way up the length of his elongated mandible, dropping her voice an octave to whisper to him.

“Touch me, Tiran.”

He descended into her hand with a loud groan the moment she asked to be touched. Although, she didn’t get to touch him for long, as no sooner did she slide her hand along the length of him, did Tiran slide down her body to begin licking her seam. Solana’s voice was just as breathless as his in moments.

In his own words, the doctor had far too much practice in his University years with this. The only turian in a class of asari maidens. When he’d told her that, neck darkened with blood in his embarrassment, she’d flicked her mandibles at him and told him to use that practice to her advantage. And he did it ever so well. Long laves from the bottom to the top of her quickly widening seam until he could manage to slip the tip of his semi-prehensile tongue inside of her.

When his tongue rolled along the ridge of her seam to press inside of the dove-grey turian’s sex, Solana’s hips rose against his strong hands. They pinned her down into the nest, thumbs following the sharp lines of her hip crests to sooth her.

Hands fell to his crest and shoulder, long fingers weaving into his fringe and the talons on the opposing hand teased lightly at the hide of his shoulder, inside of his cowl. Through his mouth she could feel the rumbled pleasure rolling off of her partner. Nasal plates pressed against the top of her opening while his tongue was deeply pressed inside, in and upwards to that particularly good place.

“Ah!” The Blackwatch agent couldn’t help but cry out as he pressed against her g-spot. Now that he’d found the elusive little patch inside of her, Tiran wouldn’t let up on it. Her talons spasmed against his fringe. Threatening to dig in. “Just… oh just like that…”

Sub vocals full of affection and bliss rolled off of Solana. Hips bucking into him as much as he’d allow her to move. The closer she came, the harder the doctor worked her. Insistent and unrelenting as her cries became more frequent and louder. His own baritone joining in when her talons dug in behind his fringe, drawing just the tiniest hint of cobalt.

“Need… oh Spirits please, need you… ahh… Ti… Tiran…”

The growl that rolled through him was enough to send her stomach into a flurry. “Tell me what you want…” he ground out, mouth just shy of her entrance.

Her bright-blue eyes finally opened to find the pair of vibrant, lust-fogged greens watching for her signal. He looked amazing like this too, predatory gaze staring up at her… just ready to pounce when invited.

“Need you inside of me.”

Tiran was on her quicker than Sol thought was possible for the less athletic doctor. She laughed in her melodic voice as his hips pressed to hers, length just beginning to slide inside by feel alone. Their gazes met, his handsome smile looking down at her all the way through the first thrust. The laugh turned into a moan as Sol was beautifully filled by her tall lover. Proportional as he was.

“Betterrr….. Uhhh…. Yup. _Much_ better.” She sighed into the still morning air, eyes closing while her crest pressed up against its darker match. Dove-grey wrists crossed behind his neck, ankles and spurs tying together with his.

The male’s back rolled with a shiver as he hilted. Talons digging into the blankets underneath his partner. “Yeah,” panting breaths falling against her own as he caught his breath. “Absolutely.”

Once Tiran was ready, she felt him begin to pull backwards. A rolling thrust set between the two of them. Solana kept him mainly inside of her with long drags of her own hips, his subtle curve pressing against her tongue-prepared sensitive places just enough to rile her right back up.

Perfect harmony of their bodies and voices came not long after that, pushing one another closer and closer to the precipice. Fluid rolls of hips. Powerful hands gripped tightly within one anothers’. Breaths mingled and tongues danced.

Absolute perfection, in the quiet brightness of a Palaven sunrise.

+-+-+-+

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The main story will be taking a short break, but expect some fun little one-shots in the interim. 
> 
> -VV


	32. Forgotten Parties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tough subjects are breached, planning for the bonding ceremony continues, and forgotten parties appear out of the woodwork.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for coming back! Hopefully we'll get back to a normal posting schedule soon, until then enjoy this. =D
> 
> To my lovely Beta, couldn't do it without you. [**Spicy_Gnome**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Spicy_Gnome/pseuds/Spicy_Gnome)
> 
> Some theme music: [**It Only Hurts by default**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QGQCOxUQJWI)

 

The first attempt had failed. 

Primarch Victus had managed to survive the assassination attempt by the sharp edge of his talons. His war hero bondmate appeared out of nowhere, like a one turian army. No one could have expected that level of brutality from just one turian. Five separatists against one unshielded and unarmored opponent and they’d all fallen. 

Garrus Vakarian would not be underestimated a second time.

Admittedly, the Advisor had been sent to hospital afterwards. But that was no consolation prize considering one of the would-be-assasins was in custody. The male wouldn’t talk, he’d instead just accept his inevitable death. If Victus didn’t call for it, then one of the other Primarchs would. Their culture was one of extremes, that was why their resistance base of Baetika and Digeris had failed, their Primarch had squashed them under the arch of her boot.

There were many tracks to cover, paths to assuage, and from those track coverings a second idea had been hatched. This time, an accident. Less of a direct approach this time. Something that wouldn’t lose their side additional favor if it failed. If anything a failure might strengthen separatist resolve. It had potential to sway public opinion to their side. That the Hierarchy was inept.

But that too had failed.

Someone had found them out and exterminated the entirety of the team before the attempt could even take place. Instead of a piece of Reaper inexplicably falling from the skies to destroy the Primarch’s apartment building, it had exploded on site. Killing everyone involved. No favor had been earned, things had just been made more difficult for future attempts with stricter safety protocols being implemented. 

There had to be another way to remove Victus. Even if the tactics needed to shift. It would be done. It had to be. The future of their species relied on it.

+-+-+-+-

The next few days passed by in a blur for Garrus. Shepard and Liara headed for home and his family returned to work. He’d be cleared in a few more days, until then he was forced to remain at home and without much to do other than his therapy, both mental and physical.

Sessions with Tiquette and Tiran became a regular occurance in the solarium. He opened up to them more than he’d ever considered doing with anyone other than Adrien. Talking through it helped more than he could have imagined. For years he’d kept his voice inside, blaming his silence on mundane tasks or the infamous  _ calibrations  _ that everyone teased him about.

Now, he only withheld the things that he needed to. There wasn’t much that included outside mission particulars, but Wrex was a topic he refused to discuss. No amount of encouragement would make him relive that relationship, nor how it ended. It was painful enough that everyone close to him even knew a relationship existed in the first place. He still caught Sol looking at him strangely every so often, and he hated it. Adrien and those select few from the  _ Normandy  _ were the only ones that knew the whole story, and he wanted to keep it that way.

Tiquette had suggested that he pick one person to confide in. That… hadn’t happened.

Letting anyone new in on the fact that he’d been... he didn’t even want to use the word… was the furthest thing from what he wanted to do. So that meant his family was out. He wasn’t about to discuss it over coms, so the  _ Normandy _ members that knew were also unavailable. And Adrien… well Adrien was busy. 

The Primarchs had been on his ass since the day his mate returned to duty. Things were tense since the assassination attempt, Invictus and Silona were particularly invasive. Invictus was harping on Separation from the Hierarchy while Silona, as the newest colony, was fearing the instability Victus’ brush with death was causing. There was too much at stake right now to bother him with one more thing.

Instead he held his tongue and waited it out.

Or he was planning to... until about a week after his first session with Tiquette when she didn’t show up. Instead it was just Tiran. The charcoal-plated male was sitting quietly in the solarium in one of the wicker chairs, sipping on his habitual cup of kava. He looked up from his omnitool when the sniper entered, an indiscernible expression on his face.

“Garrus, how are you this morning?”

The paler male scanned the room with his visor as per habit, nothing was of out place. There had been a promise of no surveillance equipment and thus far the pair of Melandras had been true to their word. “I’m well, thank you. Just us today?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, sub vocals wavering with something like uncertainty. “There... are a few things that I wanted to talk to you about without anyone else around.” One bare hand gestured to the seat kitty-corner to him. “Kava?”

Glacial-blue eyes blinked once as he nodded in agreement. Taking the offered drink once it was poured into the waiting mug. The doctor also refilled his own, taking the bitter beverage in his hands as he leaned back in his seat. Vivid-green orbs staring unseeing into the middle distance as the elder male sorted through his thoughts. Garrus had a sniper’s patience and let him take the time he needed. Sipping on his own drink while his mind went over the possibilities.

He’d never seen this look on Tiran before. It was unsettling. Most of the time he was unflappable, focused on task. The only times where he seemed less than sure were when he was looking for approval. Usually something to do with Sol. That didn’t seem to be the case here.

“There’s-” Tiran stopped mid-sentence to cough, “-sorry. There’s something that I’d like to share with you if you’re willing to hear it. I… it’s something I don’t talk about. Sol knows. Sort of.” He sighed. “She knows enough.”

It almost sounded like he was trying to convince himself that his sister knew enough about whatever this topic was. Maybe she did… or maybe not. But if his soon to be officially bonded-brother wanted to talk to him about it then he was willing to listen. Hell, Tiran had listened to him enough for a lifetime over the past couple of days.

“Tiran,” he stopped him from stumbling. “Talk to me.”

White-painted mandibles flicked in a little smile, his eyes gained clarity as he swung his gaze over towards the slightly taller male. “Right. I… I will. Just… this is between us. My clan doesn’t know and I don’t want them to…”

“You don’t need to worry about me,” he reassured him, before smiling a little and attempting humor. “I can barely talk about my own problems.”

“Ha. Right. Well… it’s just when you mentioned a handful of things about your ex… the word choice the tone… it reminded me of someone in my life. Someone that hurt me and that I’d honestly rather forget ever existed.”

The Advisor was quiet in his seat, outwardly calm as he watched his friend speak. Inside though he was nervous about what he was going to say, the doctor’s words directed him towards an answer without much of a stretch. How he came to the conclusion that his relationship with Wrex was abusive, he didn’t know. But he’d listen regardless. Garrus didn’t take Tiran for a turian who would lie about something like this… or could lie about something like this in all honesty. 

The surgeon wasn’t exactly the best at subversion techniques.

“His name was Nakma Tivori, he was my roommate when I first moved to the Citadel after my service years. Things got… physical. Stress relief type of arrangement.”

Tiran looked away, embarrassed by the sound of his sub vocals even though those types of arrangements were pretty common for turians. Well, he assumed the other male was turian, the name was right. It wasn’t like Garrus could judge, it was how… all? of his own relationships had started now that he thought about it for a moment.

“I broke it off with him after I started dating Aiesha.” 

The sniper nodded, his own second voice expressing understanding and a mourning tone for him. “Aiesha was the one you nearly bonded, right?”

“Yeah...” the word sounded hollow.

Garrus let him take his time, even with how his relationships had ended he still felt sorrow for the losses. He couldn’t imagine what it was like for amicable mates like Adrien and Kalla, or his parents, or Tiran and Aiesha. He didn’t quite understand how they kept on living without the ones they loved beyond necessity.

“He-” Tiran restarted, “-didn’t like taking no for an answer.”

The words hung between them for a handful of minutes. The charcoal-plated male placed his own mug down on the table, one hand clamping down on the back of his fringe in an attempt to self-soothe. Green eyes refused to meet blue.

There was nothing that the Advisor could offer him. He’d been there. He knew what that was like. Someone you thought you trusted taking advantage of you. He could taste the feeling, it was like ash in his throat. 

“It…” he swallowed the rest of the sentence before trying again. “It went on like that for a long time.”

Anger bubbled beneath the surface of Garrus’ calm mask, he had to grit his teeth to keep from lashing out. That other side of him, hell ALL of him, was furious with whoever this ex-roommate was. Absolutely outraged that another turian would even consider doing what Wrex did once, let alone over and over again. It made him sick to his stomach, even as Tiran continued on.

“ _ No  _ wasn’t an acceptable answer since I’d given consent when it first started. He said he was helping me out, making sure I didn’t get too stressed while Aiesha was away on tours. Said I must like it because I got off.” he huffed a self-depreciating little laugh.

When Tiran stopped, Garrus took over. He bore a hole in the floor with his battle hardened gaze, hands gripped firmly around his mug. “It wasn’t quite like that with Wrex. It only happened once. Once was enough.”

“You don’t need to reciprocate if you don’t want to, brother. I…” he stifled a cough, “I just want you to know that you aren’t alone in this.”

The sniper shook his head. “Talking helped with everything else. I just… it’s…”

“Yeah. I know.”

They were silent again, Trebia casting long shadows across the room that shrunk as time wore on. Mugs of kava went cold. Despite the weight of the room, the universe went on without the solemn pair of turians. Both too tied up in their own heads to speak quite yet.

It was Garrus that broke the tension. “How did it end?”

Tiran looked up at him, meeting his eyes for the first time. “It happened in two parts. The first was moving out from our shared residence. Without the space to trap me and the privacy it mostly dropped off by virtue of impracticality. The second part was messier. He caught me alone in my office one night and I fought back.”

“Mhm…” he hummed back in understanding before telling his own side. “We started out as stress relief and morphed into something else… I don’t have a name for what we were. It doesn’t exist in turian language. What matters is I thought that he cared about me, but when forced to make the choice between his people and us… he chose them. Gave me a bunch of bullshit reasons for what he did. Krogan reasons.”

Garrus scoffed, sitting back in his seat to stare at the ceiling blankly for a minute. Sorting through the long buried feelings for the right way to explain what happened next, without specifically stating anything about the genophage cure. When nothing was forthcoming, he said:

“I killed him.”

“Oh...” Tiran replied, a little stunned at the bluntness.

Garrus laughed without humor, it was a morbid sound. “Not for what he did. Sometimes I wish that  _ had  _ been the reason. But no. A couple weeks after he… after Tuchanka he attacked Shepard on the Citadel. I couldn’t let him succeed, so I put him down.”

“That-” the surgeon’s crest tilted to the side in his confusion, “-doesn’t make sense.”

Garrus aquienced with a nod. “Which part?”

“Well… a lot of it. But more specifically why he attacked the Commander.”

Glacial-blue eyes slid closed and the sniper took a long breath. “That’s more complicated than I’m going to get into, but in Wrex’s mind he wanted to make sure that if the krogan weren’t going to survive as a species then neither should anyone else.”

Tiran simply nodded. Letting him leave that topic as it was, as he usually did when Garrus left something intentionally vague. Tiquette was the one who tried to pry details, never her grandson. He reached for his mug of kava instead, finding it and the pot empty he stood and wandered over to the small bar near the door to make more.

The smell of fresh brewed kava filled the space within a handful of minutes. Neither spoke until the doctor returned to his seat. “I didn’t kill Nakma, I don’t even know where he is these days. If he survived the war.”

“Did you want to know?” Garrus asked him in a serious tone, leaning forwards with his elbows on his knees. He might not have needed to use his investigative skills much as of late, but he would go on a hunt if that’s what his friend needed.

“No,” the charcoal crest shook in the negative, his gravel-laden voice sounding small and pained. “It’s long over.”

“Do you think he’d do the same to someone else?” the question was harsh even in his own head, but the cop in him wouldn’t let it go unasked.

Again, Tiran shook his head and this time his neck darkened with a flush of embarrassment. “The situation was unique. If... if it’s alright with you I’d rather not speak specifics. He was a good turian, a good doctor.”

That sounded like the voice of someone who was trying to convince themselves that they’d been the only one. That the abuser hadn’t done it to others too. But as he’d said, it had been years and Garrus could understand the want for silence. He personally hadn’t wanted anyone to know what Wrex had done either, even reliving it in his head over a year later still made his stomach spin with nausea. He might do a cursory check on his own, just in case Tiran ever did want to know. For now though, as his friend did with him, he’d let the topic go.

“It doesn’t change what they did. I thought... “ his teeth ground together as his body tried to fight the next words coming out of his mouth. “I didn’t think… I know that I did love him. I couldn’t see a galaxy that we weren’t fighting side by side. He didn’t give me a choice when he ended our relationship. He didn’t give me a choice when I ended his life.”

“I… I’m sorry, Garrus.”

“Me too, Tiran. Me too.”

+-+-+

When Adrien arrived home to the  _ maldis _ late in the evening, he found his mate on the range in the rear gardens behind the training hall. It was still quite warm out, Trebia had not yet set for the night. The breeze felt wonderful on his plates as he waited well behind the sniper until he finished off the round. It’d be rude to interrupt him mid shot, and admittedly it was always a pleasure to watch the sniper work. He could make that rifle of his dance.

His watcher had caught up with him, and she kept her distance from the pair.

The Primarch had needed to search the compound for Garrus, only having paused long enough to rid himself of his armor before continuing on. In a stroke of good luck, he’d run into Tiran in the library and the doctor had known where to find him. His mate had left for the range after their late-morning therapy session, one that the younger male described as  _ particularly invasive _ . 

Adrien hadn’t needed to ask what he meant.

He heard the rhythm of his mate’s shots, it was almost as though they were set to music. His movements were slow and methodical, hand reaching for fresh clips from his dwindling stockpile as he lay prone behind the barricade, his eye never leaving the scope. Holographic targets disappeared one after the other, as fast as the rifle could handle. Watching a master work  without knowledge that someone was watching or the threat of Reapers bearing down on them was fascinating. He was flawless.

It also didn’t take long for him to run out of targets, as the last one fizzled out of existence he set the rifle down beside him. Garrus’ hand came up to his face, and he pulled off the ever present visor off before rubbing his thumb along the names carved into the side. 

Adrien felt like he was intruding as he watched on from a distance. 

If he wasn’t worried about his mate, then he would have left him be. But as Tiran told him, the sniper had been at it for hours already. Without rest or food. Adrien needed to intervene, lest Garrus keep at it longer. When he closed the distance between them, he ensured his footfalls were heavy enough to be heard. His deep baritone voice rumbling a warm greeting as well. 

“Beat your highscore yet?”

The words pulled his mate out of the reverie he’d been stuck in. His eyes sliding slowly upwards from the visor in his hands to his own golden pair. “Adrien…” he blinked a few times. “I didn’t expect you home early.”

“I’m not early, love.” he crouched down to Garrus’ level as he answered, a soft smile sliding across his features. “You’ve been at it a couple hours.”

The sniper carefully levered himself up to sit, the stiffness from not moving for hours quickly catching up with him. He rested his back against the barricade, his knees bent so that his hands could rest between them. The visor still hung loose in his grasp.

“I talked about Wrex today,” he offered into the space between them without preamble. Filling the silence for the barest of moments before it reigned over them once again. “Needed some time to get my head on straight after that. Lost track.”

Adrien hummed in understanding, watching his mate with rapt attention. His reasoning for being lost out here for hours making more sense now. Garrus hadn’t discussed his ex with him since before the war ended, the night before he and Shepard hit the Cerberus base. 

“Did you want to talk about it?” he offered as he moved to sit beside him, wanting to touch him but refraining for now. He needed to let his mate come to him. 

The sniper’s chin dropped down and he shook his head a little. “I’m all talked out. Tiran gave me a lot to think about, told me some things about himself that changed my perspective a little. It… it was good to talk to someone who understands. It helped.”

“I’m glad that it’s helping,” Adrien replied quietly. He wanted to pull his mate to his chest, hold him tight and push the demons away. It was too bad that wasn’t what he needed. Instead he offered, “I’m here if you need me. You know that right?”

As if knowing the thought had gone through his mind, Garrus slid over towards him and he dropped his head to the taller male’s shoulder. “Yeah. I do. I just don’t want to bother you. You’ve got so much going on already.”

“You’re not a burden, Garrus.” He wrapped his talons around the sniper’s and dropped his crest to rest on it’s lighter match. “I want you to talk to me, we’re a team.”

“It’s hard.”

Adrien smiled, drawing in a little breath of a laugh at his mate’s blunt statement. “Since when has  _ hard _ stopped you?”

“It won’t.” Garrus said in answer, his voice taking on a more determined stance. It was as though he was believing what he was saying for the first time. “I’m going to try, Adrien. I promise you that.”

“I’m glad,” he squeezed his hand. “And just as a reminder, I do lov-”

A loud rumble cut the Primarch off, startling the both of them and setting off a round of laughter between the two of them. Apparently, Garrus’ stomach thought that now was the appropriate time to make its complaint known.

“I love you too,” the pale-grey male told him as he stood up and helped him to his feet. “Sure I’m not a burden?”

“Positive, and just to prove it…” he stuck his hand into the pocket of his loose pants and pulled out a ration bar to offer. “I’ve got you.”

Garrus pulled him in for a taste of reverie as he took the bar from his hand. “And I’m finally starting to believe it.”

+-+-+-+

“That’s…” Joker began, dragging out the word as though he was trying to decide a better way to explain his feelings on the subject. “You know what? I’m just going to say it. It’s really bad, Shepard.”

John scoffed. His arms were crossed over his chest as he fell back into the co-pilot’s seat on the  _ Normandy _ . He’d just tried once again to sing the lines that Garrus had sent him a few months ago. “How the hell can everyone else sing?” he lamented.

First Zaeed and now Jeff. Liara could play the piano.  _ All  _ turians could apparently sing. He felt put out by the fact he couldn’t do it.

“Not like I’m an expert,” the pilot offered as his hands slid across the haptic interface, making a minute course correction on their way from Earth to Rannoch.

They’d been slowly making their way across the Milky Way on what the new Council had deemed a ‘Victory Tour’. It was supposed to inspire hope within the populus and renew a sense of unity. The Commander was just happy for the excuse to see his friends, even if it did entail far too much pomp and circumstance. 

“Maybe I should just give up.”

“Maybe you just need a teacher? Can’t let this one little thing best you,” Jeff chuckled, shaking his head without looking away from his screens. “You do realise we were just on Palaven right? Should have asked Garrus to show you.”

The biotic inhaled deeply, rubbing one hand across his face before he opened his eyes to watch the rolling blue waves of eezo surrounding the ship as they travelled at FTL. “Sure, Joker. I should have just walked up to Garrus and demanded he teach me how to sing for his own wedding. Not like he was laid up in the hospital or anything.”

“What about his family?” 

Shepard’s gaze swung around and he gave the pilot an incredulous expression. “They were kind of busy.”

“That’s a... valid point. You’ve got what three months left?”

“Two.”

“Eh… Maybe Tali will be able to help?”

“For Garrus’ sake? I hope so.”

+-+-+-+

Solana sat at one of the largest tables in the library. The harvest season was fast approaching, and the list of tasks for the Bonding Ceremony they needed to have completed over the course of the next month was slowly getting shorter. Today she and her brother would mark one more item off of that list, or at least she hoped they would.

Datapads were spread across the antique wooden table along with some thick drafting paper and a set of artist’s pens. On the page in front of her was the outline of a male turian, in her right hand a cobalt-blue tool. Her brother sat across from her, tilted back on his chair so that it stood on just the rear two legs. The position was a bit precarious, honestly.

To an outsider he’d have looked bored, but she knew it was a facade. He wasn’t bored in the slightest, he was nervous. Between the pair of them, they were supposed to be deciding on what lines he wanted across his body during the bonding ceremony. The lines they chose would each have a meaning, some purely artistic and others deeper than that.

Garrus had told her that he wanted her to stand with him during the ceremony, which she’d expected and gratefully accepted. Although it wasn’t only that, he wanted it to be her hands that painted him before they headed for the temple. To have a clan member do it over a professional wasn’t unheard of, but it was an honor.

It was a statement of trust that Sol took very seriously.

Now she just needed to ensure that she could design something to fit her seriously complicated sibling. The sniper was as complex as turians came, both an excellent and terrible example of their species all at once. In her mind the art needed to embody that, intricate without being overly complicated. Her glacial gaze scanned the panes of her older brother’s face, the familiar strong lines under his eyes and the new sweeping centreline that mimicked his mate’s.

She caught herself focusing in on the shape of his mandible paint. That was where she’d start.

The young Blackwatch agent took her time, designing something that she thought would fit him. When she’d finished, she’d come up with a complex, blocked pattern that would wind down his right arm without covering his scars. It would accentuate his hard-earned musculature, while still showing off that simple turian grace he held in his body. The left side would be simpler, a twisting vine, the lack of symmetry she thought was fitting. The patterning would continue across his cowl to meet in the centre of his keel where it would swoop instead, showing the meeting point of the simple and complex. The mimicry of his face and the underlying reasoning she thought would work out well.

“What about this, G?” she pulled her pen away from the sheet and held out the paper to him.

The feet of his chair made a small clunk noise as the came down on the stone floor, his eyes opened and he accepted the paper. He scanned it over, his face an unreadable mask. His sub vocal tones were silent as well, he gave nothing away until he spoke.

“It’s perfect, Sol.”

+-+-+-+-

Primarch Victus stood at the conference table in his office across from his second in command. Corinthus had just finished detailing the results of the inquiry into the assassination attempt, and as he suspected all evidence lent to it being a sanctioned attack by one of the the cluster Primarchs. The one who’d called for the attack was still unknown, but narrowing it down wasn’t particularly difficult. 

Invictus and Solregit were the prime suspects. They were the only two colonies with remaining separatist leanings that could handle something of this magnitude. Gothis had proven loyalty immediately after the attack with her very turian display of total annihilation of known separatists. Oma Ker was too caught up with recovery efforts, and Taetrus was too far fallen.

The seasoned military commander in him had a feeling it was Solregit. Invictus tended to make a lot of noise, but if it came down to separating they’d be the ones to lose out the most. The colony relied on trade to survive. The old phrase ‘ _ a house in an Invictan jungle’  _ came to mind, separating seemed like a great idea, but only to those who came up with it. In reality it would spell disaster for the colony and deep down, Adrien thought that their Primarch knew that.

“One more thing to discuss if you don’t mind, Primarch.” Trebax’s deep bass broke him out of his thoughts. 

“Of course.”

“Your brother sent word that he is coming back to Palaven, if you’d like to meet him at the spaceport I can ensure security is arranged for you.”

“Titus is coming?” the slate-grey male blinked a few times in surprise, he hadn’t spoken to his brother in months. Not since he’d returned to Palaven to be honest, when he’d informed him the  _ maldis _ had been destroyed. Titus had chosen to stay on the Citadel with his family instead of returning straight away.

The green-eyed male nodded, before he tilted his head to the side in slight surrender for what he was about to say next. “I… it’s mostly my doing. The day before the attack I’d contacted him to discuss your bonding ceremony, go over the song you chose. He was… mm… unaware you’d chosen a new mate.”

With a long sigh, Adrien ran a gauntlet covered hand along the length of his fringe. He’d forgotten to tell his brother about Garrus. Last time they’d spoken, his mate was lost with the  _ Normandy _ and the galaxy had been in shambles. It wasn’t the right time.

“I assume he knows now then?”

“Correct. I suggested he wait a few weeks until the waves had calmed. Though I hadn’t expected him to travel...”

He felt like an idiot. Garrus’ clan had accepted him into their lives and home, and he hadn’t even been the one to tell his own brother that he was to be bonded again, his friend had done it. And then a news report had told him to whom. Adrien and Titus had never been particularly close, but for him to have kept this from him, even accidentally, was a bit much.

“When is he arriving?” 

“Tomorrow.”

The Primarch nearly swore, but he kept himself in check instead lamenting with his oldest friend. “It never ends, does it Trebax?”

“Not for us, no. I don’t think it ever will.”

+-+-+-+-

The spaceport was bustling when Adrien and Garrus arrived the next morning, the pair stepped out of the skycar and headed inside the concourse. Solana’s friend, Vok, had been their driver, and a quick glance around the large open-air building had given the sniper an easy view of three other Watchers. He assumed there were a few more, but those would be harder to locate even for him.

The building was more put together than the last time he’d been here. It had a roof over it for one, and the security lines appeared to be back to their normal length. The stone floors were polished back to their customary shine, and new artwork had been painted into the walls. Some of the pieces were replacements for those works that had been destroyed in the war and others were depictions of the victories of the Reaper war. His gaze didn’t rest on those long, he didn’t need the reminder.

Beside him, Adrien was stiff.

Garrus let his shoulder brush the older male’s as they walked, giving him support as much as he could in the open like this. They both had high grade shield generators and were armed, but while he was wearing civilian clothes, his mate wore a hardsuit. The Advisor didn’t have a new set of armor yet, his old ones were still trashed or just didn’t fit. That would be something they’d need to remedy soon too. Just in case.

When his mate had arrived home last night, he’d been distraught. The reasoning came out fairly quickly and the resolution had been simple enough, he needed to meet Titus. Adrien was a bit tight-voiced about him, they hadn’t seen much of one another in years. He’d explained a few details, but not why they didn’t talk much.

Titus had been a cook during his service years. He’d actually served with Adrien’s squadron during the Relay 314 incident. Although, unlike his mate, as soon as the younger brother had reached thirty he’d left service. He’d gone on to become a baker, then he’d bonded to a female turian named Reyla and between the two of them, they’d had a son, Fraxus, about eight years ago.

Until the war they’d lived in the Victus  _ maldis _ on Palaven, now they had an apartment on the Citadel near where the pair opened a small dextro-bakery. By the sounds of it, they were living a good life. A happy one.

The sniper wanted to make a good impression on his partner’s only remaining relation, so he swallowed his nerves and smiled when a middle-aged male sharing Adrien’s markings and plate shade came into view. He was in a relaxed civilian outfit, loose linen pants and a swooping white tunic, and he was carrying a duffle and a small bag. Garrus was struck by the difference in him from his mate. He was slightly shorter than average and… sort of portly for a turian. Or as portly as a turian could get anyways.

“Adrien!” he called out, crossing the distance between them at an easy pace. With a slight push, Garrus and his mate made their way across the concourse to meet him in the middle. “It’s good to see you well brother!”

The shorter turian dropped his duffle bag and reached up to pull his sibling down enough to brush his crest against the elder male’s temple. The sniper couldn’t help the amused little smirk that crossed his features, he was starting to understand what Adrien meant when he said that his younger brother could be a bit… much.

“Titus, you as well. How are Reyla and Fraxus?” The Primarch replied when he pulled back to stand.

“Fine, just fine. Finally got Frax enrolled in school and I’ve been pestering Reyla about a second fledgling. She thinks it’s too soon, since the war. But you know her, such a worrier.” He patted his elder brother’s arm and turned to look at the third turian, his head tilting in question. “Little odd that you’re in more armor than your security detail, Adrien. I thought you’d bring your mate...”

The sniper’s expression faltered for only a moment, his hand coming up to rub the back of his fringe before he corrected his bonded-brother. “That would be me. Garrus,” he reached out his arm in greeting, expecting the shorter turian to grasp his forearm.

"My apologies!” Titus exclaimed, disregarding his arm entirely and sliding in to press his crest against his own temple as he’d done to his brother. “I just didn’t expect you to be so young!”

Beside him, he felt his mate sigh.

Garrus just cleared his throat once he had his own space back, ignoring the mild insult. It had sounded more like genuine surprise than an intentionally hurtful statement. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Titus.”

“Likewise, brother. Likewise. I’ve always wanted a younger one, parents didn’t get up too much after I was born though. Always said I was more trouble than it was worth,” he winked and then held out the small bag he’d been carrying. “Fresh from the new shop!”

The Advisor took the bag and peeked inside to find it filled with fresh baked goods, meat filled pastries and ones with fruit. He smiled at the peace offering and thanked him with a rumble of his subvocals.

“Shall we head back to the  _ maldis _ then?” Adrien spoke up, directing them with a sweep of his arm towards the car. Garrus could understand why his mate wanted to get moving, and he scooped up the duffle bag before leading them back towards Vok. It hadn’t been ten seconds before Titus spoke up again. 

“ _ Maldis _ ? Thought you said it was gone… or were you just trying to keep me away again?”

Garrus played interference, seeing as his mate had become stiff under the scrutiny. “It’s the Vakarian  _ maldis _ actually. Ours was far enough from Cipritine to be spared.”

“Ah, lovely.” The baker looked between the other two turians, seeming to be sizing them up for a few moments before making a decision. He pointed to the bag Garrus was carrying, “You can start eating those now. I’ll make more before I go. Lots more. You look like you’d fall over in a stiff wind, and despite the armor I’m sure my brother isn’t much better.”

Adrien sighed again, a little louder this time as they arrived at the car. Vok was already inside, and Garrus let his mate take the front seat. As he rounded the vehicle he heard Titus make another comment:

“Spirits Adrien,” he elbowed him. His voice was like a stage whisper, well above a volume you’d use for privacy. “First you steal the best female from our own cohort and now you’ve taken the most eligible bachelor from the one below.”

“I should leave you here,” the Primarch replied dryly without a hint of joking in his voice.

Titus just laughed. “What fun would that be?”

By the sound of it they were in for an interesting couple of days.

+-+-+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Titus is a trainwreck and about as subtle as a brick going through Shepard's fishtank. <3


	33. Preperations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The date grows closer and slowly the event begins to take shape; from badly needed relaxation time to equally needed conversations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, little down to the wire on this one. But it's still Thursday somewhere I suppose...
> 
> NSFW!
> 
> All my mistakes are my own, but thanks to [**Spicy_Gnome**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Spicy_Gnome/pseuds/Spicy_Gnome) and the Mysterious lurker for the idea bouncing!

“He’s finally gone,” Adrien collapsed on his back on the bed with a long and drawn out sigh. Some of the blankets fluttering down around him as the air was pushed out from under them and he settled into the softness.

A laugh from the other side of the room was completely ignored by the Primarch as he threw his arms over his face in defeat. It had been an exhausting couple of days with Titus around. Whenever his mate wasn’t at work, he was spending time with his younger brother and the rest of the family. Relaxation, was not exactly a word that he’d heard in a while.

A damn long while.

Garrus pushed himself off the doorframe, the quiet pneumatic hiss that followed cut through the voices coming from the hallway and left them in silence once the door shut fully. His pace was deliberate and slow as he crossed the bedroom to begin removing the accessible parts of his mate’s armor with careful hands. Each piece of red and black plate was removed slowly, giving the elder male time of protest if he wanted to. When he remained silent, the sniper kept at it until he’d gotten to everything he could reach. Taking a few steps back, he carried the removed parts to the desk.

Once the metal and ceramics were laid out for a proper cleaning, he turned back to see Adrien was nearly asleep already. Sprawled out on the bed with a fair amount of his armor still on. It was a good thing it was a day off tomorrow, he needed it. They were supposed to be doing a walkthrough of the venue for their Bonding Ceremony, but at this moment it didn’t appear that his mate was going to be up to the task.

Of course… he’d go regardless. Argue if Garrus tried to change their plans in favor of proper rest. Adrien had a tendency to push himself too hard. And since he was Primarch, no one could order him not to.

“If I’m not allowed to sleep in armor,” the pale-grey male told his partner, “Neither are you.”

Adrien made a noise of complaint and merely rolled over, leaving his back plate behind as he curled into the pillows. The sniper shook his head, smiling despite himself as he finished undressing his partner. Once he was nude, the younger male dropped his clothing as well and slid into the bed behind him. It was admittedly late, Titus had been shown off after dinner.

The visit had been a good one and the food had been excellent. His bonded-brother had nearly refused to let anyone else into the _Caman_ while he was staying at the _maldis_. He cited this was the best way he had to show his affection for his bonded family and Garrus, at the very least, had an extra kilo or two to show for it. Titus and Sol had become friends and bonded over cooking, which both he and Adrien had found terrifying in equal measure.

Nanus brightened the room once the Advisor used his omnitool to shut off the overhead lighting. The warm greens and browns of the room were more muted until his eyes adjusted to the new dimness.

Their room at the _maldis_ had been adjusted to accommodate the two of them, from the closet to the desk. Most of Garrus’ fledgling items had been donated to the recovery efforts with the exception of a small box of keepsakes left in the bottom of the desk. The apartment had been deemed a security weakness, and until the Separatist threat was diminished they would be staying here.

Garrus was alright with that for now, he liked living with his clan again after so many years away and right now he was just happy to have his mate in his arms. It was nice to be the one _taking care_ instead of the one b _eing taken care of._ As such he nosed into the elder male’s warm neck and slid a calming palm along the length of his body to rest on his bare thigh.

There was a pleased little sound from deep in Adrien’s chest, but otherwise no retaliation. The well muscled turian took that as an excuse to keep up his pestering, letting his mate start his time off with as little stress as possible was a priority. The taller turian usually slept better after a short romp in bed too, so Garrus’ hands continued to trail along the darker-grey body below him a little more insistently until he found the elder male’s seam was starting to part.

“Need some attention?” Garrus’ husky whisper brushed across his mate’s aural canal before his mouth trailed along the length of his exposed neck. One of his knuckles traced the line of his seam while he pressed himself into his partner’s rear.

“Mhm...” Adrien hummed an affirmative and rolled his hips back into his Advisor’s. “That would be good, love.” His hand reached back to wrap around the base of Garrus’ fringe to encourage him to keep up the attention being given to his neck.

The slightly shorter male pushed himself up on his elbow to comply, sliding his tongue along the length of his heavier set mandible before pressing inside his mouth for a solid taste of reverie. The dance was lazy between the two of them, long practiced and easy. While the Primarch’s talons lightly scraped at the more sensitive hide under his mate’s fringe, the sniper’s kept encouraging plates to spread until a warm, hard length descended into his hand.

A few long strokes had him primed and stiffening under Garrus’ touch, and the younger male grinned into his mouth. “That’s it,” he mumbled against him. “Relax for me.”

“Isn’t that my line?” Adrien chuckled while rolling onto his back and deepening the kiss. One hand continued to massage under Garrus’ fringe while the other traced his waist and hip.

“Maybe…” the sniper breathed between long laves of his tongue. “But today it’s mine.”

The golden-eyed male hummed in agreement and complied, going lax under his partner’s touch. The weight of the weeks since the attack were starting to ebb, as was the added stress from living with Titus for a handful of days. No matter how much Garrus had assured him that the younger Victus sibling was welcomed and no trouble, Adrien refused to relax about it. Maybe that stemmed from something in their shared past, but he’d wait until his mate was ready to discuss it.

As the slate-plated male neared his peak, the lighter turian let off a little. Moving to nip at his mandible and jawline again while sliding his fingers down lower to his entrance, toying with the plates to encourage them to open. “Did you want me, or…”

“You.” Adrien answered without pause as he bucked into the insistent touch. “Want you.”

Garrus smiled against him and nodded into his neck. His own sheath had been loose before, but the quick, needy reply had him descending into the open air rapidly. “Anything.”

He licked his way down the bare chest below him until he was at his hardness. The sniper gave his lover very little attention there, instead sliding further south to press his tongue against his entrance. Hands wrapped around the taller male’s hips to keep him from bucking too much as he pushed inside. The length of his tongue would help loosen him in preperation for sex, not to mention help him relax.

His tongue was hot and demanding as he worked the Primarch open. Once Adrien was properly prepared, the Advisor backed off to prompt the elder male to roll onto his side again. Only this time, he placed his own hips under his mate’s that way his length would sit between the pair of long, athletic legs and have easy access to the opening he desired. One of the Primarch’s legs bent to accommodate him, and intertwined with Garrus’ own. The sniper’s breaths were damp and warm against the back of the slate-coloured male’s neck.

“Ready?”

His golden eyes were shut as he nodded and allowed his glacial-eyed companion to press inwards slowly. Garrus enjoyed the tight heat and the satisfied little sigh his mate made through the handful of half thrusts it took to get in as deeply as possible in this position. While he wasn’t fully seated, it did ensure that the advisor could push against the best places in his partner over and over again without much effort.

Each rock of the sniper’s hips brushed his member over the elder male’s internal pair of testicles, and that caused Adrien to moan out into the bedroom. It was a simple movement to keep up, so he did until his mate was near incoherent. His eyes remained shut tightly and his breaths started to come in harsh gasps.

He was gorgeous like this.

This is the kind of sex that Garrus liked best. Driving his mate into bliss, pressed up against him to share warmth. His nose full of the elder male’s scent and hands able to trace the lines of his hips and waist before helping him along by wrapping around his dripping length and pumping in time with those smooth thrusts.

His pace was kept at a slow grind until Adrien came apart under his hand. Arching his back into him, and crying out. One hand tangled in the sheets for lack of anything solid being within reach of it, while the other dug into the side of Garrus’ hip.

Once the golden-eyed male came back down, his advisor reached behind himself to grab at one of the towels they’d left in the nightstand to clean him, and his hands, up. The towel was tossed to the floor to be dealt with later on before Garrus grabbed a pillow to sit under his mate’s hips when he rolled Adrien onto his stomach. The pillow kept him propped up enough for them to be flush against one another, chest to back, while he continued that delicious roll of his hips.

Having the Primarch prone before him allowed Garrus to fully seat himself inside of his cloaca, which gained him a gasp from his lover and hands twisting into the sheets once again. The Advisor left no recovery time as he continued on, thrusting slow and deep into his mate. He was determined to draw a second orgasm out of him before he reached his own end. The slow drag was perfect, and the position allowed him to touch and mouth along the edge of his cowl and inside to his neck and the back of his fringe with only a slight stretch.

“Let go, Adrien.” The ex-cop rumbled against the side of his neck, purring a warm and loving tone from deep in his chest.

In response, the Primarch was non-verbal. His second voice coming out in ruined gasps and moans. He was rocking himself back into Garrus’ hips with each thrust the younger male made, lost in the movement. His length was hard again and buried into the pillow beneath his hips.

The sniper was coming closer to an end himself. His crest dropping to rest on the back of his partner’s cowl and his hands wrapped tightly around thin hips. His rocking motion stuttered, becoming more erratic as he chased the end.

When Garrus slid a single hand around to wrap around his lover’s length, Adrien couldn’t take it anymore and he came again. This time with less fanfare, but still carrying all the intensity of the first. The sniper was dragged over the edge with him, pressed deep enough inside to have his hips perfectly matched to the slate-plated male.

“That-” the ex-cop moaned as he pulled out, “-was excellent.”

Adrien’s shoulders were heaving as he took long breaths to bring himself back down. “Agreed,” he groaned at the feeling of his mate leaving.

Garrus smiled and ran the tips of his talons across his mate’s back before grabbing a towel for himself and then one for his lover. The elder male had yet to move from his comfortable position over the pillow and his ass was still presented quite nicely. The sniper’s ice-blue eyes caught on the sight of his seed dripping out of his partner and he couldn’t help himself as he brought his mouth in to lick up his own mess.

His long blue tongue started at the base of the drip and he worked his way upwards to the loose entrance. Adrien tensed initially, likely not having expected it, but he did relax into the bed once he understood what was going on. This time, it wasn’t about finishing his mate, Garrus just wanted to drag out the last little bits of pleasure.

Once he was finished, and the Primarch was a puddle of purring turian, the sniper laid down beside his partner again. Pulling him onto his side as well, that way he could wrap himself around the elder male. Spooning carefully to avoid fringe and spurs, while maintaining as much contact as possible.

“Better?” he asked his mate through a yawn.

“Much.”

+-+-+-+-

Garrus was sitting in the _Caman_ with a cup of his favorite tisane, he’d just finished cleaning the cooking space up after dinner with the Clan. Outside Trebia had finished setting and the nighttime creatures were starting to come out, as such it was fairly quiet. Everyone else was off doing their own thing and had left the sniper to his own devices.

Which actually suited him just fine.

He’d been back to work for a couple of weeks and he’d had enough turian company for the moment. It was exhausting being in meetings and doing paperwork day in and day out, it almost felt like he was back at C-Sec sometimes. It wasn’t like the _Normandy_ where he’d always had something to shoot or calibrate, and around aliens he hadn’t needed to control his sub vocalisations nearly so much.

Admittedly there was a lot less stress now than there had been before the war, recovery efforts were more enjoyable than planning for total annihilation of the Galaxy’s sentient life. He also had Adrien to come home to every night, which improved things a great deal.

His arm was feeling better than it had since the rocket incident, his weight was back to normal and he was in peak shape again from exhausting hours at the gym. The Advisor still didn’t have a proper suit of armor to wear, but time for that would need to come soon since he’d regained his former stature and not only could he be fitted for a new suit, but he would be able to wear it without issue.

Mentally he was feeling better too, his sessions with Tiquette and Tiran had slowed down to once a week. He’d made peace with his father and opened up more to him and Solana. Talking to Adrien was even getting easier, sharing his burdens just as the elder male did with him. Garrus felt as though their relationship had morphed into a true partnership.

Now all that was left was to bond in the light of the Spirits. A traditional Bonding Ceremony, with their friends and allies present. The sniper couldn’t help the smile that spread his mandibles. He was excited for it and nervous as hell all in the same breath.

That excitement begged to be shared, so he dialled in Shepard’s omnitool address into his own and then he waited for the call to connect.

_{Connection request sent - Live chat open}_

_Trueshot: Shepard, how’s the tour going?_

_Bioticgod: With intense boredom, it is over yet?_

_Trueshot: Ha. Last stop was Dekuuna wasn’t it?_

_Bioticgod: Yes. And it’s just as terrible as it sounds. Power armor at all times to deal with the gravity and atmospheric density._

_Bioticgod: Even then it’s not comfortable._

_Trueshot: On planet still?_

_Bioticgod: No. Back on the Normandy. Heading back to Rannoch to get Tali first. Vid chat?_

_{Video chat requested - Accept?Y/N}_

_{Request Accepted}_

_“That’s better,”_ John said when he came into view on the holographic screen in front of the turian. The human appeared to be sitting on the couch in his cabin, his customary N7 Alliance sweater zipped up to his collar bones. He looked tired, but otherwise like his usual happy self. _“How’s the wedding planning?”_

The sniper let out a little laugh as he corrected his friend for what must have been the tenth time, “Bonding Ceremony. But it’s going well, thanks.” He couldn’t help teasing a little, “How’s the singing coming?”

The human shrugged, _“About as well as my dancing?”_

“Ouch,” Garrus winced. “That bad?”

He sighed. _“Seems that way. Is singing really that important? You’ve never actually explained the whole Ceremony and reading Liara’s notes is dull enough to make me fall asleep.”_

In the background the sniper heard a mild complaint from the asari in question, but she didn’t appear on screen. So Garrus just took another sip of his tisane and then set to explain it. “There are two main parts, the bonding and the party. The party is basically a cocktail event, all friends, clan and allies gather to eat and drink and celebrate the Bonding. The actual Ceremony is where we differ.”

_“Alright, so is it all at the same place?”_

The ex-cop shook his head. “Ceremony is at a temple, then the party takes place either at a _maldis_ or in a hotel. We’re having it at a hotel because we’re going to be too many for the clan home. Everyone comes to the temple to hear the singing though.”

_“Hear it…?”_

“Yeah. So the actual Ceremony is small. It’ll be you and Sol on my side, Adrien will have Titus and Trebax, then my dad is officiating. I’ve got the higher voice so I start by singing my part, then you and Sol join in with me. Adrien having the deeper voice is second. Symbolically I’m calling out to him, asking him to join me in the light. Following so far?”

_“Mostly… what do you mean in the light?”_

“Right,” Garrus nodded, reminded that his friend wouldn’t know what the temple is like. It was hard to explain it all without making it sound like he was talking down to him. An instructor, he was not. “The temple is designed with a skylight over a central dias where we stand during the Bonding. The acoustics are such that our singing voices carry over a half wall to the room the others in attendance are waiting.”

 _“So I’m never singing alone then?”_ he asked, sounding hopeful.

The sniper chuckled. “No. Sol will be there to back you up, and I’ve got your six too, Shepard.”

John nodded, seeming to relax a little at being told he wasn’t going to be soloing. Which he could understand, he was nervous enough about his own solo even though he had a solid singing voice. _“Well what’s after that then?”_

“Then dad’ll say some turian things about love and honor before Adrien and I mark one another again.” He pointed on his shoulder. “A second set that links with the first.”

_“That sounds… really private.”_

Glacial-blue eyes closed as Garrus agreed. “That’s why it’s only the seven of us. After that dad takes a special blue dye and he marks our shoulders with it, then each of the witnesses. I checked with Miranda, shouldn’t bother your skin but it’ll stain it for longer than it will the rest of us.”

 _“That’s alright,”_ Shepard shrugged. _“So it’s a unity thing then?”_

“Basically, yeah. Everyone present is stained with the dye for a couple weeks, shoulders and the officient’s hands. It symbolises what you’ve been a witness to. After that Adrien and I get a couple minutes to sing together and that’s about it.”

_“Intense."_

The turian was still smiling. “Yeah. You still in considering all I’ve told you?”

 _“Wouldn’t miss it.”_ Shepard told him with a flash of teeth as he grinned at him. _“Plus, it’s my job to deliver a fair number of your guests, right?”_

“That’s going to be such a disaster…” he lamented while dropping his face into his free hand. “Are you sure you can’t just bring everyone down the day of?”

The Commander laughed long and hard. _“Not a chance, G. The crew gets to see where you grew up. They are not travelling all the way to Palaven and NOT seeing the maldis.”_

“Can’t bribe you?”

_“Nope.”_

“Damn. After all I’ve done for you…”

_“Don’t worry, my apartment mostly survived that party on the Citadel. Your place stood up to a Reaper invasion and survived. What harm can they really do?”_

He sighed, “Too much.”

_“We’ll see you in a couple of days, alright? It’ll be nice to get the whole crew back together.”_

“Sounds good Shepard. Say hi to Liara for me.”

 _“Give my regards to Adrien and the rest.”_ John told him in response, even as Garrus could hear the little hello from the other side of Shepard’s room. She also said something along the lines of _did he get it yet?_ But John turned to her and said _no_ before signing out with a grin and a wave.

_{Chat disconnected. User Bioticgod offline.}_

With that little reminder, the sniper finished off his mug of tisane and headed for the guest wing. He had a handful of rooms still to prepare for the imminent arrival of the entire crew of the _Normandy_ and not much time left to do it in. Curiosity prodded at the back of his mind over the asari’s words, but for now he put it out of his thoughts.

Or he would have… if not for the door chime as he headed towards the guest wing.

Garrus changed directions in the centre courtyard, heading for the main entrance instead of the bank of rooms they’d slated for the crew. Most of the Melandra clan had moved to the clan side of the house over the past few months, they’d be staying on for the foreseeable future with Solana and Tiran’s Bonding Ceremony to come at the start of the growing season. Thus they’d switched to the more permanent rooms.

And speaking of his sister… by the time he got there, Sol was already speaking with someone beyond his sightlines. She sounded mildly guarded, yet was still being polite. “Who did you say it was from?”

He stepped up beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder as he did so to ensure she was aware of his presence. Standing in the entryway was a short turian female with crisp white Palavani markings over medium-grey plates. She had a datapad in her hands, but that was all.

“As I said, a friend, is what the delivery notification says on it Ma’am. I’ve been given explicit instructions to only deliver directly to you or Advisor Garrus Vakarian. Perhaps... if I get the crates that would clarify things?”

While she spoke, the sniper had been scanning her with his visor. Nothing seemed out of place, there was no obvious weapon on her nor did she appear to be lying. He squeezed Sol’s shoulder gently and she took that as a go ahead from him. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she’d done the same thing before opening the door, but the secondary confirmation couldn’t hurt.

“Please do.”

“Of course, I’ll be right back then ma’am.” The delivery worker turned on heel and walked back towards the front gates to fetch the apparent crates.

The pair of siblings watched her go and once she was out of hearing range Solana glanced at him briefly before focusing back outside. “Don’t suppose you ordered something?”

He had been about to reply when a ping sound was emitted from both their omnitools and a message notification popped up in the top right corner of Garrus’ visor screen. “No. But I think I know who did…” he mumbled as he flicked his eye to open the notice.

_{Incoming message from: TruthSeeker - Accept? Y/N}_

With a slight smirk and a roll of his eyes, the sniper opened the message. It didn’t surprise him that his friend with all the eyes would know exactly when they’d need a confirmation of non-hostile intent. Although… some warning would have been nice.

_TruthSeeker: Consider this an early Bonding Ceremony gift. See you soon._

Garrus looked over at Solana once he was done. “It’s from Shepard and Liara. Bonding Ceremony gift apparently.”

“Gift? Turians don’t…”

He waved her off. “Human thing. They give gifts at nearly every occasion. Have all sorts of important dates spread through the year to get things for one another. Some for friends, others for mates only. I think most are Anniversaries of some sort? But I do remember there’s a whole day devoted to chocolate.”

Sol laughed in response as the turian started to return with her cargo on an antigrav cart. It floated neatly up the stairs, two crates on top of one another. They met her a few paces outside the doors, and as to not be caught being too trusting, Garrus scanned the crates before they accepted the delivery.

By the time they brought the moderately heavy crates inside, the sniper had a fairly decent idea of what was in them. It took cracking his own open to confirm it. Inside the box in fitted plastifoam sat a helmet and a datapad.

_{Time to look the part. -L &S} _

By look the aesthetic was quite similar to his last set, the one his father had helped him obtain before the war started. Although the quality was better than they’d been able to afford. It was truly an exquisite piece, lighter and stronger than any of his previous suits by far. In colour, it was primarily silver and blue, with black accenting throughout that helped to breakup the solid lines. The ex-cop knelt down beside the box and pulled out a few parts from further down. The right arm had the golden Archangel symbol etched into it, and that made him pause a moment.

“You alright, G?”

“Yeah…” his bare talons brushed across the gold etching. “Just remembering.”

“Want to talk about them?”

The ex-vigilante shook his head a little without looking up. “One day I will.” He stood, replaced the armor part back into the box to take to his room and the closed the distance between them before shoving his shoulder into his sister’s. “Want to explain to me why you were also gifted an extremely expensive suit of armor from _my_ friends?”

“No?” Her head tucked down, instinctively protecting her neck. Sol’s tone was teetering on jest as much as his own was, her eyes bright with her hidden smile.

“Come on, Sol. I’ll figure it out on my own if you don’t tell me.”

Solana’s more delicate mandibles fluttered in indecision for a moment before complying with his request. “As long as you don’t tell anyone?” She waited for his nod, when it didn’t come right away she relented a little more. “Besides Adrien.”

“Fine.”

“I might have… sort of… agreed to be an agent for your sneaky friend?”

The elder sibling flinched back a half pace in surprise. “You… you what? For how long?”

A sigh. “You aren’t the only one in the family who has the ability to help, G. I want to. It shouldn’t all fall on you anymore. And it’s been a few months. Since they were here after the assassination attempt.”

“Sol, this isn’t…” he stopped himself. She was a Blackwatch agent. She knew what she was getting into and could handle herself. He needed to stop thinking of her as his little sister and start thinking of her as one of the youngest Lieutenants in the Turian Special Forces. It wasn’t a place someone got without being _very_ good at their job. “You already know what you’re into, don’t you?”

“I do,” she nodded then pressed her crest to his temple for a moment before giving him space. “I’m sorry I didn’t mention anything sooner.”

“There’s been a lot going on,” Garrus admitted as he grasped her shoulder once more and flashed her an understanding smile. “Just… don’t leave me in the dark again, alright?”

“Promise.”

+-+-+-+

As the Bonding Ceremony approached, Castis found himself growing more and more frustrated. They had yet to expose the culprits responsible for the assassination attempt on his bonded son. Oh there were theories... and his instincts told him whoever was responsible was close to being caught, but there wasn’t enough solid evidence to convict anyone of treason. They were still at large and it aggravated the seasoned investigator down to his bones.

In a way, he supposed it was apt that he was in this situation. He could live the reality that his son had been facing for years, remember what it was like to be on the edge of truth and be able to do nothing about it. As a long term investigator at C-Sec, and Hierarchy Police before that, he had been in this situation countless times, it was common enough in law enforcement. But to be reminded was torturous. Especially with a case that was so close to him.

Separating the personal from the professional hadn’t ever been this difficult before. He was managing, but that was only due to the distance that had been placed between him and his sons since the assassination. Garrus may had forgiven his past transgressions, his lies, but Adrien had not. He didn’t know if the elder of the two ever would.

_‘Not that I deserve it…’_

The ex-investigator understood the Primarch’s reluctance to forgive, and was still unsure as to why Garrus had given it so easily. He would, however, take what he could get and try to be better for them. All of them; Solana and Tiran included. He would be a better father now, given this second chance. He wished his mate was here to guide him through it, and missed her all the more in that moment.

His booted feet made little sound on the stone floors as he walked towards the Primarch’s office inside the Capitol building. His footsteps were drowned out by the din of end of day activity happening throughout the building. Trebia was just starting to drift down towards the horizon, it was getting late and the light was starting to fade earlier and earlier in the day as they approached the equinox.

At the Primarch’s door, he nodded to the young lieutenant that served as Victus’ assistant. The male waved him in as he continued talking on his com. It seemed that everyone was constantly busy these days. The lack of proper introduction didn’t bother the Security Chief, he was expected and required no fanfare for how often he was in his bonded son’s office. It was time to discuss the final security arrangements for the Ceremony.

Stepping inside, Castis waited to be acknowledged by the Primarch as was customary. He stood with his hands folded neatly behind his back, focus on the window across from the door. His glacial eyes caught the flicker of the kinetic barrier outside, one of the many improvements he’d recommended after the attack.

Adrien was hard at work as always, golden eyes focused intently on the terminal at his desk while his hands flew rapidly across his keyboard. “Vakarian, have a seat…” he rumbled absentmindedly, without even looking up from his typing. “Just about finished.”

The older turian did as he was told. He suffered no humiliation nor envy of the younger’s position as someone of another species might have. They were turian. Rank and file was a way of life, the personal separated from the professional. If anything, Castis admired his children and their partners, as such he was quite happy to take orders from them. They’d earned their positions honestly. These days, he seemed to take a fair number of orders from Adrien, and frequently enough from Garrus as well. An unexpected, yet welcomed turn of events in his life.

“You have the final arrangements finalised I take it?” The slate-coloured turian asked after a handful of minutes. His eyes were still focused on his screen, but the quiet ticks of the haptic keyboard had stopped. He must have been proofreading his text.

Castis dipped his crest in a nod. “Security staff have been hand picked, kinetic barriers installed, surveillance and monitoring equipment readied. Guests have all been vetted and approved. The perimeter is being set up in the morning in time for my walkthrough tomorrow. The only matters still to discuss are your personal security for the day and your schedule.”

“Mmhm…” he hummed in acknowledgment before closing out his application and twisting in his seat to look at him. His gaze was hard, as it had been for months. “I’m not wearing armor to my Bonding Ceremony. A personal shield generator I’ll acquiesce to, as well as a cabal on my security team while outside of the barrier areas.”

“Would you prefer one of the biotics from the _Normandy’s_ crew?” he offered the option without malice. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the cabals, but he thought that Adrien might trust someone he knew more easily. “There have been offers.”

The Primarch shook his head minutely. “No. They’re coming all the way to Palaven for Garrus as guests. Not to work as my security detail.”

“Understood, I’ll check with Doctor Melandra to see if he has any contacts that he would trust with the task.”

“Make it so,” Adrien sighed while rubbing a gauntlet covered hand across his face. His professional demeanor dropping out from under him. His voice weary as he asked, “Are we really concerned about another attack at the Ceremony, Castis?”

The decision to drop formality in turn wasn’t made lightly. He and his bonded son hadn’t been on good speaking terms in months. Business was one thing, but personal was another matter entirely. Although… perhaps this would be the best way to begin mending that relationship, offering support in any way he could.

“It’s unlikely,” he began. His voice was gentle, a reassuring hum undertoning his words. “Anyone idiotic enough to attempt an attack probably deserves whatever comes to them. I’ve seen vids of what some of the Garrus’ friends are capable of with just their bare hands.”

That got a slight smile out of him. Golden orbs caught his own blue as the hand slid down the length of his face. “Did he warn you about Jack?”

“Ms. Nought?” he had to wrack his brain a moment to put a face to the name he’d memorized from the invitations list. “No… should I be worried?”

“Not… necessarily,” he was smiling honestly now, his voice taking on an almost teasing tone. “Best not to worry yourself prematurely.”

Castis grimaced. “That is not comforting, Adrien.”

“Wasn’t meant to be.”

The break in tension between them felt good. The elder turian knew that he still had a long way to go in order to regain his trust, but he was willing to put in the work. They talked for a few more minutes about scheduling and travel arrangements before they finished up. Adrien was planning to take a short trip out to his first mate’s resting place the morning of the Ceremony, Trebax would escort him along with his Watchers.

Castis understood the sentiment. He too would be visiting his mate’s Spirit before going to the temple. Some things needed to be done alone, and as such he didn’t offer to join him. The task of handling Kalla’s clan could only fall to him. Not even Garrus would be able to stand at his side for that discussion. Obviously her clan’s opinion wasn’t one that he truly valued, otherwise he would have spoken with them sooner.

_‘No. Adrien is only going for Kalla’s Spirit. Not her clan’s approval.’_

He was glad that Garrus and Adrien had one another. Even though Castis personally couldn’t imagine taking a new mate, he could understand why Adrien had. Twenty-five years alone was more than enough for any turian to bear. Let alone as the one charged with being the head of the Hierarchy. It was too big a task to handle alone. The stresses too great in peacetime, let alone war.

“There’s one other thing I’d like to discuss, if you’ll allow me.” Adrien’s voice had gone softer again, it was reminiscent of the day Garrus had been found alive. When he’d asked him to go the Citadel in his place.

“Of course,” the retired investigator gestured for him to continue. His own features relaxed as he waited for the younger male. Adrien didn’t look at him, instead he stood up from behind his desk and crossed to the window. Looking out at the street, which was bustling with evening traffic. After a handful of minutes, Castis stood from his own seat and joined him. His patience was legendary, so he waited in silence until his bonded son was ready to speak.

“I haven’t been fair to you,” he started in an even tone, the words sounding rehearsed. “While Garrus has forgiven you, I have not. I haven’t tried or wanted to, even in this moment I do not. But my mate deserves more than this… distance I’ve been putting between us.”

Castis blinked a few times in surprise, when he glanced up at Adrien’s face he was caught by his eyes. They pierced straight into his own, full of honesty and not even a hint of warmth.

“While it does not erase what I’ve done-” the father began in answer, “-know that I was sincere in my apology. If I could go back and change what I have done, I would within the space of a breath. I cannot change what has past, but I promise you that I will be better.”

“I believe that. And I suppose in some ways I should thank you. If things had been different, and I hate myself for saying this but Garrus probably wouldn’t be the turian he is. Despite it all, we might not have ever met.”

A slow breath eased out of the shorter male’s lungs. “I think the same thing at times. Wonder if the path we’ve woven for ourselves is the right one. The best one.”

“Not even the Spirits know that,” Adrien replied with a small smile, the harshness dropping from his features. “For what it’s worth, I am glad that you are taking part in our bonding and it’s not just because Garrus wants you there. I want you there too.”

“I… thank you, Adrien. I am honored.” His bonded son placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it lightly before letting go. Castis finished forming the right words in his mind for something that he needed to say as the hand left him. “If you’ll indulge me a moment longer there’s something I should have said to you long ago.”

The Primarch’s head tilted in question, but he said nothing.

“Whether it was intentional or not, I’ve done so many things wrong. I created little fractures deep down in my son’s bones that became the base for breaks to occur. Entire parts of him snapped apart for my lack of trust. For my ideals.”

Castis took a breath, his gaze holding his bonded son’s. The taller male’s face was serious and gave no indication of his thoughts, his sub vocal tones were held back for the moment making him appear emotionless. It was a mask of course, a solid one wrought from years of practice. So the Security Chief continued on:

“You saw him for who he was, put him before yourself. Succeeded where I failed and then pieced him back together. I wanted to thank you for that.”

It took Adrien a moment to process what his bonded father had just told him. Once he had, he shook his head. He disagreed and told the elder male such. “I didn’t put him back together, Castis. I just reinforced what he’d done for himself.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Castis replied once he’d taken a moment to mull over the statement. Some of the denial was humility, but the rest was honest truth. He found himself even more proud of the partnership between them. “I am glad that you have one another.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Adrien agreed and then gestured towards the door. “Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See look! Sex, gifts, civil conversations... I can be nice to Garrus. Hope you all enjoyed it! 
> 
> -VV
> 
> Also.... two things.  
> 1\. I'm waffling on changing the title again... thoughts?
> 
> 2\. As a brief summary without too many spoilers: Bonding Ceremonies are small. Parents, siblings with mates, and one-two close friends are present for the actual bonding portion. The location is at a temple in a special room designed with the proper acoustics in mind and with a skylight to allow Trebia’s rays in. The rest of family and friends wait outside during the ceremony, listening to the voices of the new mates come together as one.
> 
> Lighter/higher voiced side sings first, calling out to the darker/deep voiced partner to bring them into the light. This is visually represented by Trebia/the sun's rays coming in from overhead.
> 
> A chosen family member or officiant will explain the bonding oath, ask if they agree to honor, love, serve and hunt together. They accept and give one another fresh bondmarks. In the case where mates have bonded of love first instead of ceremony, the new mark becomes like a chain-link with the first marking.
> 
> The chosen family member or officiant paints a blood blue line over the fresh bond marks to symbolize and complete the union. Along with painting the shoulders of the other present members in that blue to symbolize they've witnessed the union. The chosen family members hands are stained with the dye as well. Unity in blood type of symbolism.
> 
> Then the rest of the family exits, couple share a private moment to exchange words. They then follow the family our to join the party.


	34. The Night Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When all of Garrus’ friends come to Palaven for the Bonding Ceremony of the century there are bound to be a few lines crossed...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a blast to write guys, seriously. I hope you enjoy all of the pre-bonding shenanigans.
> 
> Thank you [**Spicy_Gnome**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Spicy_Gnome/pseuds/Spicy_Gnome) for holding my hand through some of this, I needed it!

 

In the front foyer of the Vakarian _maldis_ , Garrus stood alone in the open doorway watching on as the last dregs of Trebia’s rays disappeared below the horizon. It was cooling off, the day’s heat leaving quickly in cloudless skies. The breeze from earlier on had died down to a whisper and it ruffled the formal robes he wore. It wasn’t too late in the day yet, just coming through dinner hour now.

Cobalt fabric wound over his right shoulder, held together with a small gold clip. The cloth draped around his form, leaving the majority of his angles on display while covering him from keel down to mid-thigh. A sliver of his left hip was visible where the robe wound around itself to tie off. He looked rather dashing, or at least that’s what Sol told him. She’d picked it out.

His nerves were a little unsettled. Shepard had messaged about an hour ago that he and the crew had arrived at the spaceport and they were enroute to the _maldis_. Which meant they’d be here soon.

While the sniper was excited to see his friends, he was a bit self-conscious about... well… everything; from his lavish Clan home to his attire. The crew had only ever known him as the C-Sec cop turned vigilante. Nothing to his name but his suit of armor and the guns on his back. Hell, he hadn’t ever had more than one duffle bag of personal items on the ship. After Omega there had been even less. Some of them had never even seen him out of armor.

Two-taloned footsteps behind him brought him out of his head. By the gait he knew it to be Adrien without needing to turn around. The elder male said nothing as he approached, instead siddling up against his back to press his crest against the side of his head. His mouth hovered over the junction of Garrus’ neck and shoulder, warm breath damping it.

“You look good, love.” The Primarch rumbled against his neck. “Nervous?”

Garrus let himself lean into his mate, answering him with honesty. “A bit.”

“I’ll be right by your side.” Adrien slid one hand along the length of his mandible, turning him so that they were face to face. “This time tomorrow we’ll be officially bonded, in the light of the Spirits and surrounded by friends and Clan. It is a good day.”

The sniper hummed in agreement as the sound of a skycar or three started to beat at the edge of his hearing, drawing nearer to the compound. He bumped his crest into his partner’s, stealing a moment of intimacy. “Don’t suppose we can slip out the back before they get here?”

His mate chuckled, pressing their mouths together for a deep taste of reverie. It soothed the Advisor’s nerves and he wasn’t too disappointed when Adrien told him, “Not a chance.”

“Too bad,” he mumbled against his mouth as he pulled away, just in time to see the cars touch down on the far side of the gates.

“There is one thing you’re missing...” Adrien told him as his hand reached into the folds of his own robes, they were of the same style as Garrus’ but in a silver cloth that was smooth as silk against his hide, and from within it he pulled out a golden clasp the size of his palm. Without allowing the sniper to see what was on it, he affixed it to the pin that held his robes together. He smiled warmly, “That’s better.”

When Garrus looked down, he saw the clasp for what it really was. A golden eagle imprinted onto the Disc of Nanus. Archangel’s symbol on top of the highest order a turian could receive. A new medal in its own right.

He blinked in surprise a few times. “Adrien…”

“It’s yours, Garrus. Nanus wasn’t enough.” He pressed their crests together for a moment, closing his eyes and humming a loving tone until the sound of excited chatter and footfalls made it inside the main gates. “Time to face… what was that human idiom again? Face the music?”

The sniper laughed, holding onto his hand. “I’ve got your six.”

+-+-+-+

The entire trip from the Citadel had been filled with happy chatter about the soon-to-be-weds. Then the ride to the _maldis_ was filled with inane chatter about the recovery efforts on Palaven and how different the landscape looked from Earth. And even now as they all stepped outside of the cramped skycars everyone kept talking.

Everyone but her.

Jack had been nervous about setting foot on Palaven, not just because of the numerous warrants on her head even though Victus promised they’d been expunged. No, she was nervous because she was going to a wedding. Of all the damn things to be twiddling her thumbs over it was this. Meeting her friend’s estranged family and then taking part in a significant life event.

All of this, just like teaching had been, was uncharted ground.

She liked Garrus. He was a solid gun at her back, who never tried to make her talk like Shepard did. Never screwed her over like her ‘teammates’ before the _Normandy_. Drank with her, and put up with her shit. And because of that, she wanted to do something nice for him.

And maybe… _just maybe_ … a tiny part of her thought that if he could make up with his family, that she could too. Find her birth parents and show them she wasn’t dead like Cerberus told them she was. When she’d first gotten onto the _Normandy_ she got the files from Shepard, read the reports and knew they’d been lied to. A part of her didn’t want to forgive them, they’d left her for dead. Abandoned her.

_‘But with age comes wisdom, or some inane bullshit like that.’_

In any case, when the car doors opened and she stepped out onto the gravel road in front of the gates to the Vakarian _maldis_ , the young biotic was awed. Her mind blown at the sheer size of the home. It was like a palace from an old vid.

Jack followed the rest of the crew through the gates and inside the courtyard, even in the twilight she could see the gardens were vast and well landscaped. The home itself was three stories high, and it was lit up with floodlights that were just starting to come on as the sky darkened. At the top of the steps, Garrus was standing beside his partner. They were wearing what looked to her like roman togas, but she supposed that was just proper turian fashion when the temperature was actually warm enough for them to not cover up.

The pair of turians were greeting everyone as they passed by and inside the home, it was the biotic that brought up the rear of the line. The sniper greeted her with a warm grin, his undertones sounding amused from what she remembered about turian voices. “Glad you could make it, Jack.”

She blinked a few times before facing him, her arms crossing over her chest. “Shit Vakarian, you some kind of prince?”

“Uh… no?” he was a little taken aback by her abruptness as always.

“Charming as ever I see, Ms. Nought.” Adrien chimed afterwards, a grin on his mandibles as big as she’d ever seen him make. “I trust you weren’t accosted at the port?”

“It’s Jack. And thanks for that by the way. Didn’t think I’d ever get off for that little space station mishap,” she laughed with the pair of them before reaching into her bag and pulling out a small wrapped gift. She passed it to the taller of the two of them. “Open this by yourselves.”

She caught the quizzical looks but ignored them as she sauntered inside. Behind her she heard the sharp intake of breath from Garrus and a dark rumble of interest from his partner. Her imagination filled in the rest as she grinned. At least someone would be getting laid tonight.

+-+-+-+

Solana was waiting in the foyer for all of the _Normandy_ crew to enter before she caught everyone’s attention and then directed them down to guest quarters. She was amazed by the diversity of the group, seeing names in text versus seeing them all together was something else.

Humans, asari, a quarian, a prothean. She was a little concerned about how that last one came to be, but didn’t question it. Not yet at least...

As she began leading the various aliens along, Liara caught up with her. There was a fair amount of chatter behind them as the grandness of the home was discovered by the others, regardless of that the asari kept her voice low.

“As you requested,” she held out a datapad for the dove-plated turian. “Three credible threats were found within that data you sent. They have all been extinguished.”

Sol hummed an appreciative tone, “Thank you. That puts my mind at ease.”

“Does the armor suit well enough?”

“It’s perfect,” she grinned at her secretive friend. She had worn the new suit a couple of times now, both in and out of Hierarchy service. It was excellent armor, all sleek black plates with red highlights like the Blackwatch one she’d lost during the war. But with all the expensive upgrades that she could ever want. “Couldn’t have picked it better myself.”

Liara simply nodded, her smile a demure as ever. “I know.”

+-+-+-+

While the rest of the _Normandy_ crew was led away, a single alien held back from the rest. She looked from the slowly disappearing backs of her old crewmates towards the pair of turians standing in the doorway. She swallowed her nerves down and closed the distance between them.

Tali’Zorah had a bone to pick with a certain turian Primarch.

“Primarch Victus, mind if I talk to you for a moment?” She began in her slightly accented voice before either of them had a chance to speak. “It won’t take long.”

“Of course,” his gracious reply came along with a slight flutter of his heavier set mandibles. He gestured for her to follow him into another room, just behind the entryway. “What can I help yo-”

“Alone,” she cut him off when Garrus began to follow as well.

“Tali?” Her friend stopped abruptly, she understood his hesitation. The quarian wasn’t usually so abrupt, but she needed to do this. It was important. The sniper looked from her to his mate and back again. “Are you-”

“It’s fine, love.” Adrien told him as he slid a hand across the slightly shorter male’s shoulder. His tone was calm and a hint dismissive. “Help Solana get everyone settled.”

“Yeah. Alright.” The Advisor was a bit wary, but did as the two of them asked and left down the same hallway as the rest of the crew had disappeared down.

When they were alone, the tall turian led her through the door into what turned out to be a library. For a moment, she couldn’t help herself and the Admiral stopped to look around the beautiful space. Thousands of ancient books lined the shelves, datapads were neatly stacked in some places and there was a bank of a few computers in the corner. A space dedicated entirely to the pursuit of knowledge. Tali was enthralled.

A deep toned chuckled broke her out of the wonder for a moment, “I’m sure Garrus or Solana could show you around later on. But wasn’t there something you wanted to discuss?”

He had crossed the room and sat down on a turian styled couch. One ankle crossed over the opposing knee as he relaxed into the old leather. She shook herself out of the daze and followed him, sitting down in the chair kitty-corner to his own seat. It took all she had not to twiddle her fingers together in front of herself. A nervous habit.

“I wanted to discuss Garrus with you, actually.” She began, her voice fairly even and strong despite the anxiety. “Make sure that you know that you need to treat him well.”

The golden-eyed turian blinked a few times in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Tali replied firmly. “I don’t care that you’re the Primarch. Garrus is one of my oldest friends. And… and he helped me through a lot. And he’s with you now and that means it’s your job to take care of him.”

“Admiral Zor-” he started then cut himself off. He put both of his feet on the stone floor and leaned forwards with his elbows on his knees. His tone was more serious when he began anew, yet softer. “Tali, have I done anything that makes you think I wouldn’t take care of him?”

Her violet eyes narrowed under her visor as she considered his question, “Well… no. But neither had Wrex.” Her hands did begin to twist together now, nerves winning out. She didn’t really know what had happened to break them up, she hadn’t been on the ship yet, but she did know it was bad. Invoking the krogan’s name seemed cruel in the way he recoiled from it, but she needed him to know how serious she was. “He deserves better.”

Adrien nodded and took a moment to choose his words.

“I agree with you wholeheartedly, and I promise you that I will never betray him, I will care for him as he does for me. We are partners and I love him dearly.” He spoke with conviction, his eyes meeting hers and that was when she realised how honest he was. How much he really did love Garrus.

It put the young quarian at ease.

“Thank you, Primarch. I appreciate that.”

“It’s Adrien,” he stood up and offered her his arm. “If you can corner me and tell me off like a sister would, then I at least deserve that.”

“Adrien then.”

She took his offered arm and let him lead her off to guest quarters. All the while her mind was caught up hoping that one day she’d find someone who would love her half as much as Adrien and Garrus did one another.  

+-+-+-+

Sneaking into the Vakarian _maldis_ had been the biggest challenge that the young thief had had in quite some time. Not only had she needed to sneak past three Blackwatch agents, but through three different layers of security. Garrus’ had been easy enough, she knew how his brain worked after months of working with him and stealing some of his coding techniques to add to her own repertoire. But the older tech in the home mixed with some newfangled Blackwatch tech had been a pain in her ass.

It was exhausting work.

Come to think of it, it probably hadn’t really been worth it considering all she wanted to do was snoop through Garrus’ room. She did in fact have an invitation, and could have just slipped out of the party for an hour or so… but this was more fun. It was _always_ more fun.

Kasumi padded on quiet feet through the dark bedroom, it was handsomely decorated. She’d have to get the name of his designer. All green and browns and stone. She wandered into the closet and found nothing of interest besides confirming that Garrus’ favorite colour was indeed blue. She rolled her eyes. That much had been obvious before now.

So she tried the desk, and in the bottom drawer there was a box. A fair number of things were inside of it. All the ammunition the purple-lipped woman needed for a good laugh. “Ohhhh this will be perfect!”

“What will?” A deep, flanging voice came from behind her and she couldn’t help but jump, squeaking slightly. It had been a very long time since anyone snuck up on her, the last had been Thane.

“Oh… hello…” the human turned around slowly, the cardboard-like box held in-between her small hands. There was no point going for a weapon, if they were going to shoot her, they’d have done it already.

Castis Vakarian stood in the open doorway, he turned on the lights and she could see him now, leaning against the frame in that nonchalant way his son did. _‘So this is what an older Garrus is going to look like. Fascinating.’_ It would have been more amusing if she hadn’t just been caught snooping by him.

“You are Ms. Goto I take it?” he asked her simply.

“Kasumi, yes. I didn’t mean to intrude...”

“And yet you’ve broken into my sons’ room?”

She had no idea what was going through his mind. The turian had an excellent skyllian-five face, again the resemblance was striking between him and Garrus. “Yes?”

“While I appreciate your showing me where the weaknesses in our security are, you are welcome to use the main entrance next time.” He let go of the harshness and gave her a slight smile as he swept his arm out and stepped out of the way of the door. “I’m sure you can find your way to guest quarters? You are bunking with Ms. Lawson in the fourth room on the right.”

Kasumi walked past him, the box still in her hands. Castis didn’t take it from her. He almost seemed amused at what she’d found. So she thanked him and headed off towards the opposing end of the _maldis_. Teasing Garrus with what she’d found later on tonight was going to be such fun!

+-+-+-+

A crash course was all that Titus had needed to take in levo-food before he got the hang of it. Human and asari foods were so much easier to create than turian and quarian ones. The flour the humans used, something ground down from a plant called wheat, was simple to mix into tens of different kinds of pastry and cake. Each coming out as different as the next.

Some delicate, others hearty.

He just wished he could taste it all! But that… would be a mistake. As he’d found out a handful of years ago when he’d first attempted eating an asari cloud cake. An enormous faux pas as he’d been sick for days. Even still, his mate Reyla had needed to remind him a few times over the course of the day NOT to taste what he was making.

The pair of them stood in the _Caman_ , and what a beautiful _Caman_ it was, he’d nearly descended from his plates the first time he’d seen it. It was twice the size of the one at the former Victus _maldis_ and even better stocked. The smooth grey stone blended seamlessly with the cabinetry and aqua coloured fixtures.

“Almost done, dearest?” Reyla hummed as she put down her piping bag, she’d just finished decorating a plate of levo-friendly miniature cakes with gold and blue.

Titus pulled the last batch of appetizers out of the heating unit. “Just about. I think this will go well, don’t you?”

“Mhm. The food will at the very least. Do you think I should go check on Frax?”

“He’s fine,” the plump male waved her off. “Alli said he and Eaish were getting along well, despite the age difference.” The doctor’s son had just turned four whereas his was barely eight now.

His taller mate drew in a long, tired sigh. “You know I worry.”

“I know,” Titus closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Have to give him some space though. He’s going to be like Adrien when he gets older. Still has stars sparking in his eyes whenever he sees him.”

She hummed an understanding note. “At least he has a good role model I suppose...”

“That’s right,” he replied with a grin. He and his brother might be very different people, but Titus was glad of him. Proud of his elder sibling, despite the difference in paths they’d chosen for themselves. He stepped away after a moment, moving back to plate the last few dishes. “Now, shall we go get this party fed?”

Reyla nodded, taking up the tray of desserts as he took up his own. “Nice thing about soldiers is they’re always appreciative of good food.”

“Oh I agree. We’ll be the most liked turians here by the end of the night. Just wait until they try the pastries!”

+-+-+-+

The large doors between the formal dining room and the main courtyard had been left wide open to accommodate all of their guests. Seating had been made available, and there was a self-serve bar set up inside, the large table was pushed up against the wall to make space for mingling. It was more than warm enough to spend time in the well-lit gardens and on the verandah as well.

It was an interesting mix of species. More than had ever stepped foot in this home before at any one point in time. The Vakarian clan mixed in with Victus, Melandra and Venez. All of Garrus’ friends from the _Normandy_ were present, along with a select few from other sources like Executor Chellick. Adrien had asked Trebax to join as well, but had avoided bringing along too many others from work. This was supposed to be for Clan and friends, diplomats would be present tomorrow at the Ceremony and afterwards.

Castis surveyed the group with a slight smile, he was standing off to the side with a glass of brandy in his hand. People watching. Though unorthodox, he was happy that his son had this second family all coming together in support of him and his mate. A group that understood him, and stood in when he’d failed in the past.

“You alright?” Garrus asked as he stepped up beside him.

“Fine, just fine.” He replied with a warm sub vocal hum as he turned to look at his eldest. For a moment, he just took in his son. When he’d grown taller, Castis couldn’t recall. “I’m proud of you.”

He caught the slight blue flush that came to Garrus’ throat. “Thanks, dad.”

+-+-+-+

Zaeed sat at the bar, as was customary for him at parties. In his right hand he held a glass of single malt scotch, his left was busy gesturing as he worked through one of his many stories. It felt like he had one for every situation, most of which ended with _‘and I was the only one that made it out alive!’_

Today’s flavour was of the wedding variety. That one time he busted up a batarian matrimony circle in the middle of its third day of rites. An arduous task if there ever was one. A handful of people were listening in; James, Steve and a handful of the turians he forgot the names of, Ven-something. Didn’t matter, they were enthused enough with the tale that he was enjoying himself. He was just about at the finale when someone… interrupted him.

“Let me guess!” Shepard jeered. “You were the only one to make it out alive!”

His audience all laughed, and the ornery merc grumbled in agreement while taking another sip of his drink. “Goddamn right I was the only one!”

+-+-+-+

“And this…” Solana pulled up another holo on her omnitool to show the pair of humans. “Is Garrus just after he’d learned to walk.”

“My goodness!” Karin chuckled, poking at the haptic interface at her brother’s spindly legs. The doctor was well into the brandy already, and smiling broadly. “He’s just so small!”

“Oui, yes!” Michelle replied afterwards. “Ee is adorable.”

“Oh, if you think that’s small, hold on a moment...” she was sure that she had a picture of Garrus inside their father’s cowl hiding in her omnitool files. Absolutely sure of it. “I think, yes! Here!”

The three of them giggled over the photo, infant Garrus huddled around Castis’ neck. The Blackwatch agent might’ve shown them more, but as if summoned from the ether, said turian appeared with his mate on his arm.

“What are you looking at?” Adrien asked them when Sol quickly shut off the haptic interface.

“Nothing…” Garrus’ eyes narrowed. The glacial-eyed female was going to be in so much trouble later, but it might just be worth it if she could get the Primarch in on the joke. So she pulled the photo back up again with a dramatic sigh. “Here.”

The difference in reactions between the pair was hilarious, and it set off another wave of laughter. Her birth-brother covered his face with his hands and his neck flashed blue in his embarrassment while her bonded one made a surprised noise that almost sounded like an awe. She was in for a world of hurt at her own Bonding, but it was worth it.

+-+-+-+

Not all the talk going on this evening was quite so light. Just outside, on the verandah overlooking the central courtyard, Miranda Lawson seemed to have met the turian version of herself. Voss Melandra.

The Doctor was comparably beautiful for her species, all angles and hard lines that met with contrasting dark plate to white markings and jade-green eyes. Comparably intelligent with her vast knowledge of medicine and cybernetics. Quite athletic too as she spent a fair amount of time on personal care at a gymnasium. Perhaps the pair might’ve been friends, had this been a different time and place.

But this was not the case. As in this moment, they were arguing.

Back and forth they’d been going for the better part of an hour now. Miranda had designed the initial cybernetics used to give Garrus function back in his arm, and Voss had the task of redesigning it to better fit turian physiology. While the human had done everything she could to make a workable peice in a limited time, the turian had the ability to study and improve upon it over the course of months. It was obvious that the second device was better, but the first had been more practical.

So here they were, chasing one another in circles. Neither willing to aquiencess to the other. The perfectionists had each met their match.

“Well…” the turian sighed eventually, having grown bored of the argument. “Tell me something interesting then.”

“Like what?” Miranda replied as she took another sip of wine. She placed the glass down on the armrest of her chair and brushed a lock of her wavy black hair out of her face.

“Which of the humans you brought with you are: one, attractive by human standards, two, available, and three, a war hero.” As she read out her terms, she held up a manicured talon to accentuate her point. “I’m in the market for something... exotic.”

The genetically engineered human raised one of her perfectly shaped brows. Barely managing to suppress a laugh “They’re all war heros. Any peak your fancy in particular?” She had no reason _not_ to give her suggestions, it wasn’t as though she was interested in any of them. It would also give her an escape route to speak with the turian’s brother about the surgery. From their correspondences before the procedure, Tiran had been the more personable of the pair.

Her mandibles fluttered in momentary indecision, eyes hungry as she scanned the crowd, before she picked two. “The one with all the muscles, and the shorter one beside him. Square jaw.”

“Well the first is James Vega. A Lieutenant. Soldier by trade. Not the brightest, but he’s got a good heart and steady hands with a rifle.” She hummed in consideration for a moment before deciding what to tell her about Kaidan. “The second is Major Kaidan Alenko. A Spectre. Biotic. I’d consider him more classically handsome than Vega, but both have their strong points.”

Jade-coloured eyes lit up at the word biotic. “Oh… that second one sounds enticing. Almost taboo. What would my friends think if I brought him around!”

“Well, I wish you luck in your endeavor.” Miranda raised her wine glass to her as the turian stood from her seat and headed inside.

Perhaps they weren’t that close of a match after all.

+-+-+-+

Jeff leaned into EDI’s arm as the pair of them walked across the room towards Garrus, where he was sitting at the bar with the Commander. The pair were thick as thieves with one another, goading each other on with tales of ever growing exaggeration to their heroism. Although, neither spoke of their own feats, they were trying to one up one another with things the other had done.

Shepard was just in the middle of telling the group of onlookers about the time his turian friend had taken out four men with a single bullet. Said turian was arguing that it didn’t count because the third man had tripped on the first and fell to his death and the fourth had been shot by the second. It was complicated, but, from what the pilot could recall from the suit cameras, accurate.

His legs were working pretty damn well for the moment, but he was close to overdoing it today. It wasn’t often he needed to walk through a spaceport and across the kilometer or so between the main gates and guest rooms and back again. He missed the _Normandy’s_ short halls and few steps. The bearded man was happy he had EDI’s arm to lean against.

“I’ve got a better one!” the sniper proclaimed. “There was this one time that Shepard took on a Reaper on foot-”

Tali cut him off, “That doesn’t coooount, Garrus!” Her words were slightly slurred, yet she took another sip from her straw. “The entirrrre quarian fleet shot the Reaper down, Shepard had a glorified lassser pointer.”

The crowd, including Joker, burst out into laughter.

“Tali is correct. It was my targeting system,” EDI pipped in.

“And I hit the kill switch!” Jeff proclaimed with a grin.

“See!” the tiny quarian shouted and nearly fell off her stool, thankfully Jack was leaning behind her against the bar and ensured the smaller female didn’t fall. She squeeked out a thanks.

“Alright Tali, let’s get you some water…” The Commander helped her off the stool and away from the group, much to the tiny alien’s apparent chagrin.

The chatting continued for another few minutes before dying off and leaving the pilot with an opening to give his turian friend the wedding gift he’d brought along. “Hey, Garrus… this is for you.” EDI held out the box to him. “Nothing much, but we thought you might enjoy it.”

The Advisor reached out and took the box from her. “You didn’t have to get me anything, Joker, EDI. Thank you.” His second voice was rumbling something that the human couldn’t understand, but he assumed it was a positive note. “What is it?”

“Just open it.” His head ducked down under the brim of his hat. Garrus did just that, his talons easily shredding the plain brown paper that the gift was wrapped in. Inside was a model ship, the _Normandy SR-2._ “It’s got all the Alliance colours inside, unless you’d rather paint it in Cerberus ones.”

“Jeff… this is perfect… how did you...”

The AI spoke up to reply, “I remember you mentioning that you would like to learn to paint, Garrus. When Jeff brought up the idea of things to ‘Calibrate’ I thought it may be appropriate.”

While his browplates rose at the calibrations comment, the turian seemed to be genuinely happy with the ship. “It’s great, thank you both.”

+-+-+-+

The _Normandy’s_ resident grump stood alone watching the proceedings with a sour quirk to his mouth. No one dared approach him while he was in this state. The crew knew better than that, and the turians in the room seemed to take their lead. When Shepard did finally approach after taking care of Tali, he’d prepared himself to get an earful.

“I still do not understand your reluctance, Commander. The gift I had chosen was appropriate.”

John sighed, he hated rehashing the same arguments, but alas it must be done… otherwise Adrien and Garrus would be in for quite the surprise. “Because a pet is a big responsibility, Javik! You can’t just throw one at someone.”

“In my cycle it was the greatest responsibility,” the prothean lectured as he crossed his arms over his armored chest and blinked his four amber eyes in unison. “It was an honour to be gifted with such a beast. Your argument is at odds with your statement.”

Shepard sighed, dropping his head and rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “It’s a choice Garrus and Adrien need to make together. They probably don’t have time for a dog. They’d need to walk it and...”

“Commander, your turian exercises daily. A warbeast would require him to maintain his fitness level and no doubt ensure he ate more regularly. Taking care of oneself is easier when you’re required to care for another as well.”

“You make some valid points…” the human aquiecessed. “Let’s just wait a few more months alright? You can bring it up to them later.”

“Very well.”

+-+-+-+

“So Garrus...” Kasumi purred as she walked towards him with the box of stolen goods. “I didn’t quite know what to expect, but somehow this is quite fitting!”

Glacial-blue eyes narrowed at first as he tried to decipher what it was that she’d brought out, but when realisation of what was in the box hit, his eyes widened to the size of saucers. “Kasumi, no. You didn’t...”

“Oh but I did!” she giggled and put the box down on the coffee table in front of him and the rest of the group. If she remembered correctly, and of course she did, he was sitting amongst his soon to be bonded brothers and their children. Titus, with Fraxus, and Pelen, with Eiaish. The infant was missing, probably asleep already.

The other four peered into the box immediately and found the little treasures that she’d taken it upon herself to find. The older of the two turian children reached into the box without hesitation, pulling out the replica Spectre grade pistol. The thief noted that he held it properly, finger off the fake trigger and everything.

“Wow!” he exclaimed with the childish wonder that seemed to prevail in every species. “What is it, Uncle Garrus?”

 _Uncle Garrus_ , and wasn’t that a funny way to think of her friend, sighed. “That is a mark-seven HMWP Spectre grade pistol. A replica,” he added the second part quickly to ensure that Titus wasn’t concerned with his son holding it. Although… he didn’t seem to be. The older turian was grinning at the find. Turian children must start shooting earlier than humans did, she figured.

The child’s dark amber eyes seemed to light up at the explanation. He looked it over thoroughly before passing it to Garrus when he stretched out a hand for it. The toy looked absurdly small in his hand. He smiled as he looked down at the replica, probably some kind of memories associated with it. “Used to think I could save the galaxy with this.”

“Well you did, sort of…” the thief stage whispered to him and he chuckled while shaking his head.

He looked to Titus first, who nodded, then he passed the toy back to Fraxus. “Think you can keep it safe for me?”

“Me!” The tiny turian trilled loudly and held it to his chest. “I promise I will!”

The child’s father grinned and looked beyond his son out towards his brother before glancing back at Garrus. “Well, I think Frax has a new favorite Uncle. Adrien has his work cut out for him if he thinks he can top that!”

+-+-+-+

Samara couldn’t help herself, she had wandered away from the noise of the party out into the courtyard. Hundreds of different kinds of plants were brightening the space, luminescent in the darkness. Palaven’s twin moons were just beginning to help brighten the space and they only added to its beauty.

“Serene here, isn’t it?” A feminine-flanging voice asked from deeper in the gardens.

The justicar turned towards the other garden’s guest, finding an older turian female with the same jet black plates as the rest of the Melandra clan. “It is, yes.”

“It was kind of you to come,” the turian told her as she joined the slightly shorter patron on the path and the two began walking again. “I am certain someone with a position such as yourself would have plenty to do with the recovery efforts.”

“You are correct. However… Garrus Vakarian helped me many a time since we have known one another. It seemed appropriate to provide my support here, as well as be an ambassador for the asari people.”

“I see.”

They strolled in silence for a handful of minutes before the elderly turian spoke again. “You are one crew member that Garrus has not spoken much of in our sessions. I wish to find out why?”

Samara stopped and turned towards her.Her face an impassive mask as always. “Perhaps there was nothing to discuss?”

“Or perhaps it was because of your difference of opinion. An Archangel versus a Justicar?”

“We are not so dissimilar,” the asari replied. “Though our methods varied.”

The turian’s mandibles fluttered minutely. But that gave nothing away. “So he did not break any of the rules of your code?”

“That is a difficult question to answer, it is not simply a yes or a no. However, I will say this. I have no reason to enact my code on him, and I never will.”

She nodded. “That is all I needed to know.”

+-+-+-+

Tiran and Garrus were standing just inside the courtyard doors, watching a disaster unfold before them. For some reason, Voss had taken it upon herself to accost one of the humans, Kaidan as he’d been introduced earlier on. And for some reason, the male was eating it up. The pair had gotten closer to one another and were chatting in depth about something. They were too far away to hear what, and neither of them was inclined to get any closer.

“Should we-?”

“I feel like we should…”

“But I’m not going to.”

“Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

+-+-+-+

Across the bar from Voss and Kaidan, sat the dynamic duo from the _Normandy_ SR-2’s Reaper tour. James Vega and Steve Cortez. Both of them had a beer in hand and they were teasing one another about the glory days, or at least they were… until James decided to open his mouth.

“So… like… who’s the man?”

The darker skinned human slapped his palm into his own face. “James! That is not how it works! They’re both the man, they’re male.”

“But like… who’s pegging who?” the soldier mumbled, confused at the concept. “They’re both so macho, it’s hard to figure it out.”

“Seriously James… that’s so not how it works. One of them isn’t suddenly female just because they’re together. One isn’t the man and the other the woman.” He shook his head and took another long sip of his beer. He needed to be more drunk for this conversation. “Let me try and explain. If you’re having sex and the woman is on top of you,  is she the man?”

“No… but she doesn’t have a dick all the sudden either.” James grumbled and crossed his massive arms over his barrel chest. “I don’t get it.”

Steve shrugged, “I don’t think you ever will.”

+-+-+-+

Tiran’s arms wrapped around Solana’s shoulders from behind, his face coming alongside hers and nuzzling his mandible against hers. He rumbled an affectionate tone deep in his chest, allowing the vibration to resonate against her back.

“Having a good time, Spook?” he whispered.

“Mhm…” the Blackwatch agent hummed in answer, one of her hands sliding around to tease the more sensitive hide under his fringe with the tips of her talons. “Are you?”

His charcoal crest dipped in a nod, the silver fringe clips on his left side jingling against the blades as he moved. He’d gotten dressed up today, as had everyone else. Though his style was less traditional than Garrus and Adrien’s. Instead he wore tighter, three quarter length pants and a fitted white shirt with silver inlays.

Sol was wrapped in silver, and he matched her perfectly.

“We could be having more fun though…” he mumbled just barely loud enough for her to hear.

“Later,” she laughed and shook her head. But he made a noise of complaint and that caused her to spin in his grasp, a wicked smile appearing on her face. Being so close to one another, she was able to slide her talons across his waist subtly enough that no one saw. “Just another hour or two, _amore.”_

“And you’ll make it worth waiting?” he suggested, surprised his voice was stable enough for words with how worked up she was making him with barely a touch. Although… all the alcohol in his system likely wasn’t helping either.

“Promise.”

+-+-+-+

“So… did you ever expect anything like this, sir?” Executor Chellick asked his former boss as the pair of turians sat together on the verandah, facing towards the party which was coming to full strength indoors.

Castis shook his head, “I think you can call me Castis by now, Decian. You’ve reached a higher point in Citadel Security than I ever did. But to answer your question. No, this isn’t quite what I’d imagined being the reality as I came to my children’s bonding years, or retirement.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Sometimes, but I wouldn’t go back.” His glacial eyes scanned the room, lingering on his children each for a moment. Both were happy, laughing with friends and Clan. It warmed him, and eased the lingering guilt he felt. “Don’t be like me, Decian.”

“Sir?”

“If you find yourself a partner? Hold on to them. Make sure work takes second place.”

The younger male nodded and hummed an understanding tone. “Wise words.”

+-+-+-+

While Garrus was thoroughly enjoying seeing his friends, he needed a bit of a break from them as the night wore on. Despite the number of people here to support him, he wasn’t usually this social. Across the room Adrien was talking with his brother and Trebax, but the pair merely needed to exchange a look, glacial to golden eyes, before they were both moving towards one another.

The sniper clasped Zaeed on the shoulder as he excused himself from the conversation at the bar, leaving his glass on the countertop. His mate had done the same, joining him empty handed at the open doors to the courtyard. A black taloned hand found its match as Garrus pulled his love away from the crowd gently.

The elder male canted his head in question, but the Advisor just gave him a soft smile. “I just needed a bit of break from the crowd for a few minutes.”

Adrien rumbled understanding and wrapped an arm around his mate’s slender waist. The sniper tilted his head sideways onto the taller male’s shoulder and sighed as he nuzzled into the silken fabric of his robes. The give and take between them was gaining more depth as the pair grew together as a couple. Garrus was happier now than he’d ever been in his life and he savored the warmth and closeness of his partner amid the luminescent blooms of the garden.

It was serene and calming. The perfect way to begin winding down the evening.

The sound of near silent footsteps padding across the dirt alerted the sniper to someone else’s presence before the unknown entity coughed to alert them someone was there. He was rather proud of himself for not reacting poorly, his shift was rather sedate as compared with a few months ago. Garrus merely perked up and shifted positions to be between the newcomer and his mate with a graceful slide. The sessions with Tiquette were apparently working.

“It’s just me,” Liara told them as she stepped out from the shadows.

The ex-gunnery officer let out the breath he’d been holding as he felt Adrien’s hand on his shoulder. The Primarch stepped out from behind him to address their asari friend, giving him a few moments to brush off the slight adrenalin spike.

“What can we do for you, Liara?” he was even voiced as ever, sub vocals rumbling with an undertone of honest curiosity.

“There’s something a friend asked me to pass along, he couldn’t attend personally... “ her cerulean gaze spun back towards the rest of the party for a moment before returning to the pair before her. “Most of the others in attendance think he’s deceased… it may be better for everyone’s sake that it remain that way. He won’t be around much longer regardless.”

Garrus hummed in consideration, there was really only one person it could be. That much was easy to figure out… but what wasn’t simple was _why_ Liara would be passing him anything from the salarian. “What is it?”

She raised her delicate blue hand, inputting a code into her omnitool to allow a small card to pop out the side of it. “Just this. Mordin thought that you should have a say…”

“A say in what?” Adrien prompted when she cut off early.

“The genophage cure. The real cure,” she held out a hand to Garrus and he took the tiny card from her with only a slight tremble in his hand. His mandibles were pinned to his cheeks, teeth held tight together as she continued, “It is too early to deploy it now, of course. The rest of the Galaxy needs a few more years to recover, but eventually he wanted to fix his mistake. Do the right thing.”

The sniper’s eyes were glued to the tech in his hand. It would be so easy to crush it between his fingers. To deny his betrayer’s race salvation. He felt his heartbeat quicken at the thought, a tight feeling taking over in his chest and nausea building in his gizzard.

“But only if you agreed, Garrus. Mordin wanted to leave it up to you.”

“Me?” Glacial-blue eyes blinked a few times, unseeing into the middle distance between his face and his hand. His mind going a mile a minute. “Why?”

“Because Shepard told him what you said before Wrex died. You told him that despite everything he did, after the war was over you’d bring the real cure to his people. You gave him the chance to walk away.” She paused a moment, her eyes taking on that glossy appearance human and asari got before they teared up. “If you still think the krogan deserve a chance, then here it is. The choice is yours.”

+-+-+-+

Without further Liara left the pair alone in the gardens.

Adrien watched her back until it disappeared beyond the numerous plants in the gardens, only then did his gaze shift to his mate. Garrus hadn’t moved, he was still staring off into space. His hand was closed around the datadisc and his chest rose and fell rapidly under his robes.

He reached out a hand to touch his mate’s shoulder, but stopped halfway between them and swallowed thickly. The golden-eyed male wasn’t sure if his partner wanted to be touched, so he dropped the hand back down to his side and waited for him to make a move instead.

Eventually, Garrus’ eyes closed and he shook his head while dropping his chin down to cover his throat. He slotted the disc into his own omnitool and took a step forwards, closing the distance between them to wrap his arms around his mate.

There were no words.

Nothing could be enough for the weight that Liara had just dropped onto him. Adrien was angry and saddened all at once. But it was already done, all he could do now was support his mate through this next trial.

+-+-+-+

Castis Vakarian and Zaeed Massani were having a glaring contest it seemed. Neither quite willing to back down against the other.

“That was you?” the turian broke the silence with a simple question. It was reference the story the ex-mercenary had just finished telling to one of the other humans, Jack, if he remembered correctly.

“It was,” came the human’s gruff reply. “And there isn’t a goddamn thing you can do about it now. Statute of limitations is twenty years. I’m in the clear.”

“You do realise the altercation took place in Hierarchy space?”

Realisation dawned on the old man quickly, his mismatched eyes widening. Hierarchy years were two months longer than Earth years. “Shit.”

The taller male picked up his glass and took a sip of his brandy, his tone almost teasing as he said, “It’s a good thing the Primarch pardoned you lot. Otherwise… well... ”

“You’re right about that…”

+-+-+-+

Ever since gifting Garrus the model ship, Joker had been quite comfortably seated outside in the courtyard looking up at the stars. The breeze was warm against his skin, ruffling his beard that had grown a bit long over the past few months. It was just about time to trim it again, but that was a task for the next morning when he got dressed up for the ceremony.

People watching never grew old, he’d seen a few couples disappear off into the gardens and return a few minutes, or in some cases an hour, later. The smile on his face was genuine as he tilted his head back to stargaze.

He drew in a deep breath. It wasn’t often that he had the opportunity to stare up at the heavens from this kind of vantage point, he was typically sequestered on the _Normandy_. EDI sat beside him on the padded bench, her metallic hand wrapped in his. It was only warm because it had been in his for so long.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked her after a long while.

“I agree, Jeff.” She turned towards him, “Do you require anything?”

He squeezed her hand, it didn’t matter that she couldn’t feel it. “No. This is perfect.”

“Alright.” She squeezed his hand in return.

+-+-+-+

The party was just starting to cool down, everyone was pleasantly buzzed and had seemed to have found comfortable places to sit and talk amongst one another. John scanned the room and grinned, taking Liara’s slim blue hand in his own. She had a warm smile on her face as well, a glass of wine was in her free hand. Her lightly freckled cheeks were flushed a faint purple from the drink, and in that moment he realised that he couldn’t wait to get her alone.

The Commander’s right hand came up to cover his mouth as he coughed to redirect his thoughts back to the party.

Their wedding was going to look like this, a mismatch of species and friends from all over the Galaxy. It seemed as though each and every person present was having a good time, and he could only hope that they’d be doing the same when he and Liara eventually got hitched. Maybe they’d do it back on Earth… he loved that beach they’d spent his recovery time on.

Before people started meandering off to bed, John needed to make a toast. His blue gaze found Solana’s and as he nodded, she turned down the background music with her omnitool. Voices quieted automatically at the lack of noise, and a few people’s attention shifted before the Spectre even needed to ask for it: “Can I have everyone’s attention please!”

+-+-+-+

Shepard’s speech was short and sweet.

He took his time with a few bright points, a few teasing moments, and a sombre note of regret for all those friends they’d lost along the way. Names weren’t needed tonight, each loss was known and felt on a deeply personal level for each and every person in the room.

It was the perfect combination of things, pulled straight from John’s legendary speeches handbook it seemed as by the end, the crowd had experienced a whole manner of feelings. And those feelings ended in hope.

Guests started to disperse after that, heading to their respective quarters to get a few hours rest before the party continued in the morning. It was going to be a big day.

+-+-+-+

“I knoww I was hard on you earlier, ADriennn…” Tali’s voice was slurred and her emphasis entirely wrong as she continued on in her drunken praddling. Apparently turian brandy straight from the source was a little stronger than she was used to. “But youu are good for Garruus!”

The Primarch chuckled as he helped the tiny alien down the hallway towards the room she was bunking down in. “Thank you, Tali.”

“I meeean it!” She poked him in the chest with her first finger as they came to a stop. “He deserves goood things.”

He managed to get her to the room, a smile sliding across his mandibles as he saw the annoyed look Jack gave him at the intrusion. The biotic was already sprawled across the large, turian styled bed, mostly nude.

“Good luck,” the golden-eyed turian chuckled and was about to turn to leave when the quarian’s arms wrapped around his waist. He tensed up immediately. The human deeper in the room snickered, but didn’t move to help. Of course the quarian hadn’t meant anything by it, but that was quite the sensitive area on a turian. Especially through the thin fabric of his robes. “Ah… Tali?”

“Sooorry!”

+-+-+-+

By the time Adrien returned to the clan side of the _maldis_ , Garrus was already in their room. He was flat backed on the bed, his arms over his face. Were it not for the dim lighting coming in from the windows, he’d of thought his mate was asleep already. Instead he saw a slight shift as the door opened and closed behind him.

“How’s Tali?” the sniper asked with a, somewhat forced, rumble of amusement.

The Primarch’s left mandible twitched in a near flinch at the timbre of his mate’s voice. He was upset still, that much was obvious. Ever since Liara had given him that datachip he’d been quiet, which was why he’d volunteered to return the quarian to her quarters. Give him a few minutes alone to mull the new information over.

Why the asari had picked tonight… he wasn’t sure. But he wasn’t particularly happy about that decision. Adrien just hoped he’d be able to get through to his partner. Help him through this next choice, to either doom a race or help his betrayer’s people. It wasn’t going to be easy, but there was only one acceptable answer. The only true decision was _when_ to deploy the cure.

“She’ll be a little rough in the morning, but otherwise fine.” He crossed the few paces between the door and the bed, unclasping his robes as he did so and leaving them hanging overtop of Garrus’ on the desk chair.

He did note that the medal he’d given his mate earlier in the evening was sitting on the desk instead of being left on the cloth. For all the younger turian’s reluctance, he seemed proud of the recognition. It made him glad he’d chosen to bestow it upon him privately. It had been a better outcome this way than forcing him to stand at attention on parade.

That just wasn’t his mate’s style. It was too open. Too exposed.

“That’s good. Shepard said something about finding her on the bathroom floor after his party.”

“Oh dear…”

Garrus huffed a little laugh, picking up his arm to find his eyes. Gold locked right on to blue, and with that the younger male seemed to relax, a long slow breath left his lungs. A smile pulled at the edge of his mouth. “Thank you.”

“For what, love?” he asked while sitting down on the edge of the bed, one hand tracing the curve of his jaw and then down along his neck to the bond marking on his shoulder.

He shrugged, pressing his cheek into the Primarch’s warm palm. “Being here.”

“There isn’t anywhere I’d rather be. You do know that, don’t you?”

Garrus hesitated before he found his words, breaking eye contact. “Even… even if Kalla were still alive?”

That question threw Adrien for a loop, and it took him a moment to sort his thoughts out. That question was one that he’d asked himself a few times, especially in the early days, but not now. _‘Where had that question even come from? That doubt… He’s never even hinted at Kalla beyond providing comfort...’_

“Crap. You don’t need to answer that, Adrien. I’m sorry.” One of his hands scrubbed across his faceplates. “That was… I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s alright Garrus.” He shook his head and leaned over his partner on the bed, the answer sliding out somehow with ease. “The circumstances were entirely different between the two of you, and now she’s been gone nearly as long as she’d been alive. Five times as long as I’d known her. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for all that’s happened. So I wouldn’t go back. Couldn’t. Not now.”

“Alright.” The Advisor dropped his hand from his face and looked up into his mate’s eyes again.

“If you could go back…” the elder male began, his own insecurities showing through in this quiet moment. “If one of them hadn’t betrayed you…”

This time Garrus didn’t hesitate, “No. I wouldn’t go back. I’m with you Adrien.”

He couldn’t be sure which of them started it, but suddenly their mouths had met in the middle. Air pressed out of their lungs as they clashed in a battle of tongues. Garrus’ hands pulling Adrien down into him, and Adrien’s pulling Garrus upwards. Like their very lives depended on it they shared a heady dose of reverie between them until it felt like one didn’t finish when the other began.

By the time they let up on one another, breaths came in ragged gasps. Talons carded across rough plates and softer hide. Bodies came together as much as possible, both already fallen from behind protective plates, slick and hot with need and passion.

Adrien wanted to be inside his partner badly. Garrus appeared to be in agreement, as instead of waiting for it he swept the taller male’s legs out from under him and he immediately climbed overtop of his partner. One hand guided him inside of the already spread plates, the lack of preparation making it a tight squeeze. But the pair was too far gone to care.

The sniper rode his partner all the way to orgasm. Both coming apart at the seams and collapsing together spent in the sheets. Additional pulls of reverie soothing jagged nerves and lingering doubts. For they were in this together.

Until the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! That was a lot of words.


	35. Ceremony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It has been a long time coming, but the big day is finally here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry! I am so behind getting this chapter out to you! It's been nuts around here lately between writing for the Spectre Requisitions exchange and Mass Effect Big Bang. But if it makes you feel any better the rest of the story is all planned out, and we're going to end around 39-40 chapters total, just tying up those last few loose ends now.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the newest installment!
> 
> A big thanks to my beta: [**Spicy_Gnome**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Spicy_Gnome/pseuds/Spicy_Gnome)
> 
> Some theme music for you: [**John Legend - All of Me**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=450p7goxZqg)
> 
> And some translations for you:  
> If you are expected at a residence ([ **MizDirected's**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MizDirected/pseuds/MizDirected) words):  
>  Host greets: Loramici intratar rekescatius  
> Guest thanks and accepts entrance: Espectat utamici tibitias agimetran
> 
> Pallium - Similar to human Roman-styled cloak worn on formal occasions, made of a silken material with golden threads.
> 
> Bonding Ceremony - Bonding ceremonies are small. Parents, siblings and mates, and one-two close friends are present for the actual bonding portion. The location is at a temple in a special room designed with the proper acoustics in mind and with a skylight to allow Trebia’s rays in. The rest of family and friends wait outside during the ceremony, listening to the voices of the new mates come together as one.
> 
> Lighter/higher voiced side sings first, calling out to the darker/deep voiced partner to bring them into the light. This is visually represented by Trebia/the sun's rays coming in from overhead.
> 
> A chosen family member or officiant will explain the bonding oath, ask if they agree to honor, love, serve and hunt together. They accept and give one another fresh bondmarks. In the case where mates have bonded of love first instead of ceremony, the new mark becomes like a chain-link with the first marking.
> 
> The chosen family member or officiant paints a blood blue line over the fresh bond marks to symbolize and complete the union. Along with painting the shoulders of the other present members in that blue to symbolize they've witnessed the union. The chosen family members hands are stained with the dye as well. Unity in blood type of symbolism.
> 
> Then the rest of the family exits, couple share a private moment to exchange words. They then follow the family our to join the party.

 

Castis stood outside the _maldis_ , leaning against his skycar decked out in full ceremonial garb, which consisted of a white _pallium_ robe with gold threading throughout the silken fabric, and a pair of matching sandals that wrapped around his legs intricately up to his spurs. Everyone involved in the actual bonding portion of the ceremony today would be wearing the same, the others in attendance would all be in various levels of formalwear. It was likely to be a bit eclectic considering how many species were involved, and his freshly repainted mandibles twitched into a grin thinking about it.

He’d never imagined so many under his Clan roof: turian, asari, quarian, human and somehow a prothean. The group was as diverse in status as it was in species, from Admirals to mercenaries and everything in between.

The night prior had been an adventure, and the party after the ceremony was bound to be worse. Tonight no one would have to worry about remaining presentable. Garrus friends were… a rowdy bunch and were likely to ruin at least a few rooms at the hotel they’d chosen for the reception. _‘At least the maldis will remain standing,’_ the older turian chuckled to himself. The group had kept the damage to a minimum last night, and he’d only needed to send Solana after the thief, Kasumi, for a handful of items.

All told, the retired investigator was in an excellent mood and he hoped it would continue to rise.

In his mind he went over the words to his part of the ceremony yet again, for the hundredth time since he’d woken that morning. Wanting them to be perfect for his sons. They’d asked him to officiate. To stand in a place of honor among them while the pair proclaimed their love and bond to the Spirits.

Castis had been humbled.

Despite all he’d done wrong over the years, Garrus trusted him. And he wanted him to be a part of his life. Adrien too, was accepting of him and all his past failing. Castis couldn’t have asked for more. Could never have imagined his life as it was now.

The only thing he’d change, given the chance, would be to have his own bondmate here with him today. Watching their only son bond in the light of the Spirits to his mate. A sorrowful sound left his throat, and in the quiet moment he let himself grieve. There hadn’t been enough time to do so properly after her passing, preparing for and then taking part in a galactic war effort had taken priority. So now, when he could, he took time he needed. They all did.

Castis had walked through the gardens in the early morning dew before getting dressed for the day. Breathing in her Spirit to take with him while he oversaw the ceremony. Her ashes had been spread amongst the places she’d loved most after her passing all those months ago. The blooming flowers and hardy trees carried her Spirit just as brightly as if it was Trebia herself.

With a solid breath, he let the moment pass. Missing his love all the more.

Trebia’s disc was fully visible just above the horizon when his glacial eyes opened and he took in the sight, mandibles tilting with fondness. This had been her favorite time of day, the early morning light soft and the ground just beginning to warm. Fog and dew dissipating and leaving behind the scent of fresh mornings.

Castis straightened as he heard the sound of his young exiting the _maldis_ through the main doors, no footsteps between them as they descended the stairs, only his son’s nervous second voice and daughter’s teasing laughter. Some things would never change. The grin returned to his face as they came into sight, the pair looking magnificent. Freshly applied cobalt markings contrasting perfectly with polished-grey plates that reflected in the sunlight. Almost as if their mother’s Spirit was shining down on them from above.

Solana had done an excellent job applying ceremonial markings to her brother, she’d woven them intricately down the length of his scarred side from shoulder to his talons. His cowl would be designed as well, though the elder turian couldn’t see it yet. Under the _pallium_ he wore, more markings were painted. The only space free of them was his left shoulder where the second set of bonding marks would go. Like a chain link, intertwined with the first.

Turians who bonded for love left one circle of teeth on their partner. Turians who bonded for clan under the light of the Spirits had one circle as well. Only those who were bonded by both wore the linked set. As he did. As Solana and Tiran would.

“Good morning,” Castis greeted with a warm rumble as he pushed himself off the vehicle to stand straight. “Sleep well?”

His daughter’s arms stretched above her head and she purred in agreement. “Wonderfully.”

His son gave him a singled armed shrug. “Enough.”

The comparison between the pair was stark as it always had been, and he couldn’t help the small chuckle that fell from his throat. Solana shoved her shoulder into Garrus’ which made him sigh and shake his head. While his daughter was always bright, hiding nerves with snark, his son was more the type to become quiet when unsettled. He’d use humor as a cover in work, but interpersonally he had a tougher time than Sol did.

That was probably his fault, too.

“Onwards we go then. It’s time.”

+-+-+-+

It had been twelve long years since Adrien Victus had walked through his first mate’s childhood home. The small _maldis_ was hidden away in the mountains nearly one hundred kilometers from the nearest city, a skycar was the only practical way in or out. The entire ancient building was constructed of wood cut from nearby trees, put together by the hands of Kalla’s family, all of them long past.

He could feel the Spirits stronger in this place than anywhere else, and they calmed him for the moment. It was only those that were still living that unsettled him here. One taloned hand reached out as he walked to trail across the intricately woven window screens, used to shield fledgling plates from Trebia’s rays in their early years. The smell of softwood branches wafted in with the morning fog, permeating the air.

“This way, Primarch.” The dark-plated butler ushered him further into the home, past the _Caman_ and to the west garden’s entrance. An odd choice considering it was the harvest season, but he let it slide choosing instead to enjoy the spring trees’ soft silver tones, despite their not being in bloom.

Adrien took the offered seat at the low table, turning to look at the slightly older turian that he’d known for years, the only one he’d ever felt somewhat comfortable with in Kalla’s home. “Thank you, Denor.”

The deep-grey crest tilted towards him, exceptionally polite as always. “Of course sir. The Avah will be with you shortly.” He said nothing more, just disappeared into the woodwork. Leaving the Primarch to his thoughts.

Looking around, he took in the beauty of the scenery. Both the mountains in the background and the sound of the stream running through the gardens as he breathed in the clean air. It was nicer than Cipritine’s all the way out here, despite all the recovery work the major cities still held a fair amount of pollution within their bounds. Scrubbers would get it out eventually, but until then he would appreciate the breeze while he had a moment.

Kalla’s favorite time of year was the the growing season, so perhaps that was why he’d been brought to this garden. It was also where the ashes had been spread after her passing, at the base of the tree that she’d favored climbing as a child. His mandibles pulled into a sad smile at the memory of finding his first love high in its branches after she’d found out she was with child. Her nerves making her hide away from her family. They’d never particularly liked him, and she hadn’t been sure how they’d react to the news.

Kalla had loved him, and she loved her Clan. But the triangle had never closed. While he was bonding with Garrus fully, he’d never received a second circle of teeth in his neck from her. The Clan hadn’t approved of him.

 _‘I wonder if they would now…’_ he mused absently.

Adrien had been surprised when he’d found out about the pregnancy. Kalla’s implant had been removed after their bonding, but his was still in place. They weren’t going to have it taken out until he hit forty and the command ranks, life however had found a way. As his doctor explained when he got it checked out, the implant in him had failed after he’d been injured in the Relay 314 incident. The same battle that had taken his brothers from him.

Unconsciously, he rubbed his hand across the ages old scar on his bicep. It hadn’t hurt since it healed, but it was a constant reminder of those he’d lost. Part of the reason he understood his new mate’s decision to keep his own scars from Omega mostly intact.

His first mate wanted to bring Tarquin up in her family home, but during his birth the Spirits had taken her away. Something that took him years to come to terms with. Adrien sighed, it was still a sore topic for him.

“Primarch Victus,” greeted a dual-toned voice that he hadn’t heard in years, even now there was a hint of disdain laden inside of it. Kalla’s mother. He stood from the table, turning to see the elderly turian walking towards him. She looked as she always did, stern and a little detached, if not just a bit too frail.

“Avah Acutus,” the slate-plated turian greeted in reply when she wasn’t forthcoming with the usual turian formal greeting. He waited a moment longer and she eventually did give him the expected phrase, albeit it was forced. She’d known he was coming.

_“Loramici intratar rekescatius.”_

_“Espectat utamici tibitias agimetran.”_ He nodded to her and took his seat once she had rounded the table to sit with him. Despite the fact the two of them hadn’t gotten along, he felt it important to speak with his first bonded parent while he was at their _maldis._ Even if his true purpose of the visit was to walk among Kalla’s ashes and leave a piece of Tarquin’s spirit here with her’s.

The last time Adrien had stepped foot in this place was just before Tarquin had left for service. Kalla’s family had never been overly involved with him and his son, and at the time that had suited him just fine. The, now, Primarch had been an up and coming officer at the time, halfway through the mid-level ranks and focused on his work rather than taking the time needed to fly for hours on end to get to her home.

A home he’d not felt welcomed into even while his mate had been alive.

Watching the leaves sway in the early morning breeze, he took a few steadying breaths. Dealing with Acutus was never a particularly pleasant task. “Thank you for seeing me this morning, Avah.”

“It was an inconvenience,” she totted back at him in the slow, methodical way the bronzed female tended to speak. “For Kalla’s sake and my grandson’s, I thought it prudent.”

Adrien hummed a sombre tone in memory of his deceased family members. One which she joined him in. She had that much tact at least.

“I am glad to see that you and Denore are well at the least. How did the rest of the clan fare?”

“Poorly.” She spat. “Anyone who wasn’t at the _maldis_ died in the initial attack. Those remaining took up arms and left Denore and I here. They’re all dead now too.” His first bonded mother was angry, her tone biting and mannerisms betraying all that without even a token attempt at subversion.

“It was the greatest war we’d ever been in, Avah. For what it is worth, I am sorry.”

“You should be,” she snapped. “It was your task as Primarch to keep our people alive. This clan is doomed because of you. Kalla dead. Her siblings now too. Their young.”

Only years of putting up with her abuses and years longer as a military leader kept him from snarling in reply. This wasn’t the time for bitterness. She was an old, lonely soul now. Would likely live out her days here as such. Leave the _maldis_ to the staff when she eventually died. Adrien could live with that reality.

“As I said, the losses are unfortunate. The Hierarchy did all it could, more than expected, and we are still here. Our people are gaining ground quicker than any other species, and we will rebuild.” He hadn’t meant to be unkind, but it was the turian way. As long as one of them was left standing, then they had won.

Before either of them could say more, Denore reappeared with prepared mugs of tisane. From the smell of it alone, he knew it was Kalla’s favorite. Arimaceau. The Avah was quiet while it was served, as was Adrien. He tilted his crest in thanks and took a long sip of the beverage before placing it down on the table. Though the pastries the butler set out were ignored, they were a favorite of Acutus, not Kalla.

When he left the silence didn’t linger long.

“It’s just you now,” she began around the lip of her own mug before she set the cup down. “And you’re lowering yourself to a Vakarian.”

Adrien bit his own tongue to keep quiet, forcing himself to remain calm behind another sip of tisane. He’d been waiting for the dig at his new choice of mate. It didn’t matter who it was, nor did it matter that he’d been alone almost as long as Kalla had been alive. The Avah had always blamed him for Kalla’s death, and the fledgling they hadn’t been entirely prepared for.

“I did not come here for your approval.”

She laughed, shoulders shaking a little before she took another sip of her drink and replied. “Of course you didn’t. You already made your choice. Just like you’ve always done. Selfish.”

Why he’d thought she might’ve changed over the course of the years, Adrien didn’t know. He stood up, palms flat on the table, finished with this turian and everything she stood for. He had a family now. One that cared for him. Understood him. He wouldn’t take this any longer.

“I asked you to see me out of respect for Kalla’s memory, not to have my mate and honor insulted. I will always love her, but she is gone to the Spirits. Has been gone almost as long as she was here. She wouldn’t have wanted me to suffer as you would have me do.” Adrien straightened to full height, golden eyes moving from his ex-bonded parent to the garden.

Leaving the table, he ignored the protest and walked away without looking back. Showing his enemy his back, the not-so-subtle meaning that he did not see her as a threat. He would walk the path to Kalla’s tree one last time, to say goodbye.

The fog was starting to lift, Trebia coming to full light as the air warmed.

Adrien walked at an easy pace towards his first mate’s resting place. When he arrived at the tree’s trunk, he knelt down placing his palm on the ages old bark. It was crackled with age and pollution from the war had darkened the sheen from a rich brown to a sooty colour. Time would repair it. As it would everything.

At first, he said nothing in spoken word. Allowing his sub vocal tones to explain himself to her Spirit, if she was able to listen then she would hear him. His love for her, for Tarquin. His sorrow for his first life and family. He lamented not appreciating when life had been simpler. Before she died. Before he became Primarch and sent their son to his death.

And then he told her of his promise to do better.

“You would have liked him,” he began in a tender voice. “Headstrong like you, passionate. Reminds me what’s important. Why we fight.”

His palm slid along the trunk, ending in the hard dirt to scrape through the clay. “He doesn’t replace you, but he makes me whole again. I needed that.”

+-+-+

John stepped out of the aircar under the shaded awning. He and the rest of the crew had arrived a bit early to avoid the worst of Trebia’s heat. Environmental suits had a way of messing up formalwear, and the heat of Palaven’s midday didn’t do well on hair and makeup.

They’d been promised that it would be cooler inside the temple. And when he stepped inside, he found Solana’s words to be true. It was indeed a more manageable temperature, almost too cool since he was wearing turian styled robes. The Commander felt a little odd in them, walking around like he was some kind of Roman human from the history books. Liara had assured him that he looked appropriate and quite handsome.

“It sort of reminds me of Haestrom…” Tali said absently as they were led through the halls by Solana’s mate-to-be. “It’s so old.”

Tiran hummed in agreement, “This is the oldest temple still standing in Cipritine. Built nearly ten thousand years ago and it withstood the Unification wars as well as the Reaper war.”

The quarian and turian chatted back and forth as they continued down the shaded stone hallway. Shepard was only half listening to them, he was too busy humming his way through the words he was going to need to sing soon enough. He felt bad when he saw Tiran wince when he went off key for the third or fourth time. He was still terrible, it didn’t seem to matter how much he practiced… it was just as bad as his dancing skills.

When they finally came to a halt at the entrance to the visitor’s hall Tiran directed the rest of the crew beyond him to wait for the ceremony. Tali held back for a moment, the pair continuing to whisper to one another before she left with the rest of the crew. The only thing that Shepard managed to pick up on from the conversation was a reassuring hum from the doctor.

“I hear you’ve been having some trouble, Commander.” Tiran’s mandibles shifted into what he thought was an encouraging smile. “Can I help?”

John’s hand slid up to rub the back of his head and he tried for an easy smile. “I honestly think it’s a bit too late for that. Maybe I just shouldn’t sing.”

“Let me try, alright?” he tilted his head away from the hall and down the hallway before starting to lead him away from the rest of the crew. “Garrus wanted you to sing with him. It’s an honor in our society to be asked, and to back out now…”

He didn’t need to finish his sentence, Shepard understood that it would be beyond rude. He just didn’t know if that would be worse than singing badly.

They walked down the corridor and came to a stop in an unmarked room, they stepped inside of it and Shepard had to pause for a moment to look around. It wasn’t a large room by any means, but the ceiling was arched in such a way that it felt enormous. It was almost medieval in it’s construction, the stone ceiling curved with blocks that must have been shaped by hand to fit together so perfectly. Support beams, also made of stone, went from the floor to the ceiling in the oblong room.

It was strange, and beautiful.

It was also dim. The only light was provided by a single skylight in the centre of the curved ceiling. At the moment the sun was at an angle that brought the circle of light in onto the back wall and a table that was covered with a white sheet, but Shepard could tell that it would be directly on the raised dais in the centre of the room beneath it at the height of the day.

On either end of the hall there were curtained off sections, one ice blue and the other gold. He assumed that those sections had something to do with where Garrus and Adrien would begin the ceremony.

By the time he had finished taking in the room, Tiran was waiting patiently with his arms crossed over his keel and a slightly amused tilt to his mandibles. “Impressive, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Is this where they bond?”

Tiran nodded and brought out his omnitool, bringing up the haptic interface and hitting a few keys before meeting his eyes again. “Has anyone ever turned off your translator while you’ve been practicing?”

Shepard blinked a few times, confused. “Uh… no? Should I have.”

“Yes,” he chuckled good naturedly. “Our voices sound entirely different with translators on. Nothing comes out quite right. Turn yours off and we’ll begin. I know enough human phrases to get by.”

The Commander was a bit skeptical. Regardless of that, he turned his own translator off and the pair began working. Fortunately there was more than an hour until ceremony was scheduled to begin.

-+-+-+-+

Adrien stepped out of the skycar and into the bright sunlight outside of Temple Cipritine. He was the last to arrive as the rest of the Clan and guests had been there before Trebia neared her peak both to set up and, for the softer skinned of the guests, avoid the day’s radiation. Kalla’s _maldis_ had been a solid hour’s skycar ride away and in the quiet time between there and here he had time to reflect. Trebax had piloted for him, and gave him the space and quiet time he needed.

He was, in all honesty, feeling a little off at the moment. It was a combination of nerves and remorse. He wanted to be bonded to Garrus officially, he loved him with all his heart. But that didn’t change that he missed Kalla, he loved her too. Visiting her Spirit had been the right thing to do, as had leaving Tarquin’s remains, nothing more than Tuchankan dust, at her resting place. Kalla should have been there for their son’s life, but was taken from them. So instead they would be together with the Spirits where one day he would join them.

As he walked towards the main doors, his Watcher was joined by the ex-Cabal that Tiran had known from his time working on the Citadel, a C-Sec officer by the name of Iphigenia Monensis. She was just as tall and dark plated as the rest of the Melandra clan, as such she fit in well with the crowd. An unknown helper should she be needed. It was good that she was here, he wanted the event to run smoothly.

There was no telling if the Separatists would use today as an excuse to strike or not. Within the Hierarchy there were factions that disliked his relationship with Garrus for too many reasons to properly list. Some held a distaste for the fact he took a second mate, against normal turian tradition. That was only augmented by the fact he took Garrus from eligibility. There were plenty who expected both of them to contribute to the repopulation of their species, pass on genetics.

It was all too complicated, and it gave him a headache just considering it now. With all those thoughts on his mind, he almost didn’t notice his sibling exiting the temple to meet him.

“Brother!” Titus greeted with wide opened arms and a grin. “How was your visit?”

“Well enough,” Adrien clasped his shoulder and allowed himself to be led inside and towards the preparation rooms. Titus’ mate was quite the artist and she was going to paint him before the ceremony began. “Is everything set for today?”

Titus patted his arm. “Everyone’s here, don’t you worry about that. You’re going to love the design Solana and Garrus chose, he looks stunning.”

While his brother kept on, Adrien could feel himself relax a little. The stiffness fell out of his shoulders and the knot in his gut eased. All he needed in this moment was to be reminded of his mate. His focus needed to be here, on his present, and not the past. Together he and Garrus could solve any problem thrown at them.

He had to believe that.

-+-+-+-+

A lone datapad beeped with an outgoing message.

_ <It is done> _

-+-+-+-+

Waiting in darkness, Garrus could feel his heart hammering in his chest and he could hear the others getting into position, bare taloned feet scraping against the ancient stone floors of the temple as the sound echoed through the room’s perfect acoustics. He took a steadying breath, today it would become official. The Spirits would acknowledge his bond to Adrien. The pair could consider one another partners in all things, and have the official acceptance of Clan.

It was merely a formality, bonding in the light of the Spirits at Temple Cipritine wouldn’t change anything between them. Adrien took care of him. Loved him. And he did so in return. There wasn’t anything that could change that. Regardless of that, he was excited for this moment. With all his heart, he wanted this moment.

Glacial eyes opened to the silhouette of his best friend standing guard at the edge of the darkness. John had been at his side since he’d arrived at the temple, helping to put him at ease despite the twisting feeling of nerves in his gut. The human was ecstatic about being included in the actual bonding once he’d learned of the cultural significance. Shepard knew now how highly Garrus valued their friendship because of the choice to include him.

The brightness began to increase as Trebia hit her peak which allowed him to see John clearly. His old Commander turned back towards him smiling, eyes wrinkling at the corners as he linked his bright-blue eyes with Garrus’ own. His right hand came up to sign _-ready_?- in the Alliance hand signal. The motion made him grin right back at the human, nostalgia flooding in from their years together. Despite Shepard’s translator being shut off for the ceremony, the pair’s easy rhythm wasn’t hindered in the slightest. It made it feel as though no time had passed since they’d been fighting side-by-side on the battlefield.

The turian signed back, - _one minute-_. As he steadied himself, waiting with bated breaths for Solana to begin. Her voice being the brightest, would be first.  

Despite his little clothing, he was warm and grateful for Palaven’s heat in the harvest season. The sniper was dressed in the traditional manner, flowing white _pallium_ draped over his shoulders and wrapped around his trim waist. He’d gained sufficient weight back since returning to Palaven to look healthy, still on the lean side but his renewed musculature, though not as grand as his post Omega levels, did fill him out.

Cobalt-blue lines were stark against his light grey plates, freshly painted colony markings, with Adrien’s addition, adorned his face and Solana’s artistry marked the rest of him. His scars were still a stark contrast to the smoothness of his good side, but he had to admit that Voss and her team had done a beautiful job of cleaning them up. They’d rid the Advisor of a few purposefully chosen marks, including the split that had bisected his left cheek. Most of his surgical scars were gone now too, along with the archaic prosthetic plates that had replaced the ones that had been too badly damaged by the rocket on Omega.

Garrus was pulled from his thoughts by Solana’s sub harmonics, her low pulsing hum began from the central chamber, rebounding beautifully off of the curved ceiling. On the edge of his hearing he listened for the quieting of those waiting beyond the sanctuary. The rest of his and Adrien’s Clan and their combined group of friends quieted for a moment before the turians in attendance joined in for a few notes.

He felt a wave of encouragement as everyone joined in, took part with their voices even though they wouldn’t be able to see the ceremony itself. Some had travelled across the Galaxy just to hear them sing. He was humbled, and then the first verse ended. His heart stilled at the silence.

It was time.

With one final breath of his own, he began the second verse. The words passed down for thousands of years of Vakarians combined with all of his own emotions. Shepard stepped out of the shadows first, clearing the long cobalt curtain from his path as the notes began to cut through the silence.

Pouring every iota of love he had into his ballad, Garrus walked forwards until his feet finished carrying him to the platform where he’d meet his mate. He hadn’t known his eyes were closed until he felt his sister’s hand on his left shoulder, Sol’s voice joined his own to thrum through the next verse. Her love for him threaded through every bit of the song and Garrus’ couldn’t stop his mandibles from spreading into an even bigger grin as his eyes met hers.

John’s hand touched his right shoulder as the shorter male reached up to him and began the fourth section with them. He’d obviously been practicing the lines, though they lacked a certain luster without sub vocals, the ex-gunnery officer was amazed that he’d tried at all. The human’s voice higher than his own, a tenor if he remembered his lessons from his fledgling years correctly.

Stillness fell over the room as the final notes came to an end and their echoes ceased. Solana and Shepard took a step back from Garrus, leaving him alone on the dias and joining Castis in the circle they’d eventually make around the two lovers. The vaulted ceiling brightened as the minutes passed them by, light starting to reflect off of his plates as Trebia came overhead. In a few minutes the entire podium would be alight.

Garrus’ eyes scanned his father’s face, all he could see in him was pride. The elder met his gaze for a moment before his eyes flickered to the other side of the room, to the gold curtain that Adrien and Corinthus would be standing behind. Titus’ deep bass voice began its melody not long after the echoes faded, when his introduction finished they waited.

And they waited.

In all honesty, the sniper didn’t know how long they stood in silence, surely it wasn’t more than a few seconds, but his expression had begun to fall when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye as Titus wavered from his post. Adrien’s brother had been about to go check on him when the curtain shifted and Corinthus stepped out, holding the cloth out of the Primarch’s way.

Adrien’s baritone voice resounded off the walls and ceiling, words perfect as they flowed outwards and he stepped into the central chamber. His pace was slow as he made his way to the podium, almost looking as if he was unsure of himself.

Garrus watched him, as the slate-grey male stepped further into the light it was easier to see the paleness of his neck, the lackluster shine of his hide, and the sweat beading between his plates. Although his words and voice were clear, it was obvious his mate was unwell.

His expression fell, he wanted to go to him and moved to do so but Solana’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. She was right, he wasn’t supposed to move from the dias if they wanted to perform the ceremony properly. Adrien would have said something if he was bad enough not to carry on through their ceremony. He hoped….

As the first part came to an end, he made his way up the two stairs and onto the podium. Now, Garrus could see his mate’s face in the light and Adrien immediately locked eyes with him. The sniper relaxed a fraction, seeing the devotion in his gaze and knowing with certainty that the hesitance was unrelated to their bond.

Titus stepped forward as Solana had done, then Trebax joined them for the third verse, the three male voices deeper than his side of the circle had been. When they finished, they stepped back in unison as Garrus’ partners had. Leaving the two lovers just over an arm’s length apart when they took one pace closer together. Trebia’s light shone brightly above them, allowed into the temple through a skylight that shone solely on the place where bondmates would meet together in view of their ancestors.

When the echoes came to an end it was time for Castis to speak for them, he would recite the traditional turian vows before they sang together, marked one another, and stepped directly under the light to be painted with dye as a symbol of the realised mating.

“A bonding is like no other vow,” Castis began solemnly, his baritone voice resounding off the walls and ceiling as he spoke. Sub harmonics emoting through each predetermined word. “It is not only devotion and honour. But a promise of partnership, of love, of strength that must grow together. Your duty to one another will become as important as your duty to the Hierarchy, to your respective clans as they come together. Sacrifice of one's own self for the other, the bond becomes an anchor.

“But for all that it weighs you down, nothing can compare to it in how a bondmate will steady you and support you through the worst storms. Whatever piece of you that is tied down no longer matters as you have trust in one another to pull through anything. Something that you can count on in all ways.

“Your mate will always demand a part of you. Just as you will demand a part of them. This constant will keep you together in times of struggle, in times of hope. You make this pledge free of obligation, free to choose to remain your own soul or to release it to the Spirits and join together as a pair of binary stars in the void. Linked forever in their eyes.”

Castis’ gaze fell down from the ceiling, eyes passing from Garrus to Adrien as his arms opened up to them. “Do you chose to sing together?” he asked them.

They replied as one, voices harmonizing, beautiful in emotional depth that somehow came from their second set of larynx. In a way that Garrus had never known was possible. It felt right. It felt perfect. Together they stepped into the singular beam of light as the words blended and wound in unity.

When the echoes faded it was time for the marking to occur. The entire reason the ceremony was a private affair, this touch of primal nature. Of passion. It wasn’t a display for the masses, no matter how high or low on the Hierarchy’s scale one sat. This part was purely for the eyes of the Spirits and those closest to the mated pair.

Order was determined by voice in this too, though both he and Adrien were baritones, age had deepened his partner’s voice a shade lower than his own. Adrien would go first and he stepped forwards, trailing a hand across Garrus’ plated cheek before pushing the younger turian’s head to the side.

Garrus bared his throat freely to his partner, trusting him entirely. Adrien’s fangs came down over the scarred over bonding mark first before moving slightly closer to Garrus’ throat to leave an interlocking bite. Without hesitation he dug deep into the hide to leave a second circle of teeth. He clamped down until blood flowed free from the incision, Garrus’ acceptance of his mate’s mark blossoming through in how he didn’t flinch or make a sound.

When Adrien stepped back, his breaths were laboured. His mouth painted in blood.

Garrus copied his partner, closing the distance mark him in kind until he bled and rivulets of cobalt fell freely to stain his _pallium._

They parted to face Castis, arms interwoven as they held one another.

Turning to the small table that had been placed behind him, Garrus’ father dipped both his hands into a bowl of dye that was the exact blue colour of turian blood. Once his talons were coated he spun again and stepped forwards, hands touching down against his born son and his mated son’s shoulders, over their new bonding marks. The three talons left lines along the inside of their cowl along the curve of their necks to finish at their collars. The dye would cause the marks to take additional time to heal, forcing deep scars. The colourant would only last a few weeks, but the bond would last a lifetime.

“Sing together now, for the Spirits to hear.” Castis told them, his mandibles spreading into a smile as his own voice raised and lowered in his own song. When his verse finished he continued, “Allow them to learn your new voice so they may guide you, my sons.”

His hands left them, the drying dye stained his talons as much as it stained their hide. A mark that he’d been the chosen to unite them. Castis stepped back, then walked the circle touching his left hand to the shoulders of Titus and Trebax before rounding to place his right on first John and then Solana before he reached his original place. All seven of them marked as members of the bond.

Closing his eyes a moment and bowing his head to the newly mated couple, Castis waited for them to begin again. Garrus and Adrien turned back towards one another, one hand to the other partner’s clean shoulder. It was done and their harmony began anew, rising to reverberate through the sanctuary, joined by the voices of their siblings, joined by their chosen friends, joined by their officiant, and finally by all of those standing just outside the private hall.

Turian voices rose and fell in the familiar pattern of bonding. A hundred voices singing out together their support for the new pairing. The sound varied as Garrus’ friends joined in as well, the distinct flat tones of the other species harmonizing well enough to only add diversity to the singular turian voice. A uniqueness that fit Adrien and Garrus perfectly.

Shepard and Trebax turned towards the doors together, followed by Solana and Titus, followed by Castis. They left the new bondmates alone together, standing in the light of the central dias in a perfect moment as their part of the song finished and their united clan sang the last words for them. Their crests came together as the doors closed.

They were mated. Together as one unit under the watchful eyes of the spirits.

Garrus’ free hand came up to drag along Adrien’s chin, wiping the blood away. “We did it…” he breathed, nuzzling against the elder male’s crest.

The Primarch swallowed, his voice was pained as he replied. “We did, love.”

“Are you alright?” the sniper asked, pulling away enough to see his mate’s face. Catch his glossy lightning coloured eyes with his own sharp blue ones. Something was most definitely wrong. “Adrien, talk to me. Please…” the hand that had been on his shoulder moved to his hip to steady him. The one on his face pulled his gaze up to meet his own.

His partner’s dark grey crest shook as Adrien closed his eyes and pressed into his crest for comfort. “I’m just not feeling well, it’ll pass.”

“Not feel well how? You…- “ he hesitated over the words “-you don’t look good. Do you want to sit down? I can get one of the doctors…”

‘No,” Adrien replied sharply, his hand slicing through the air between them. “We’re supposed to be giving each other our personal vows. I want to do that and if you insist I’ll-” he cleared his throat, “-I’ll do that afterwards.”

“Yeah… but-”

“No. Let me do this. Garrus I-” a coughing fit stopped him, his hand coming up to cover his mouth as he hacked, shoulders shaking like a leaf in the wind. Garrus held onto him as he wavered. When he finally finished, his breathing was ragged and wheezing. “Ma-… maybe a doc-…”

He started coughing again, collapsing into the stunned turian’s arms as blood spattered the white cloth of Garrus’ _pallium_ further staining it _._ “ADRIEN!” he shouted in a panic, lowering his mate to the podium and holding him in his arms.

The Primarch’s neck was drained of all colour now, his plates cooling to the touch in a sickly feverish chill. “No no no no… Adrien… hold on… just… HELP! SOMEONE HELP!”

Solana was the first one at the door, pistol drawn from nowhere and eyes scanning for hostiles. When her blue gaze landed on them the gun clattered to the ground, fallen from her shaking hands in terror.

“Tiran get in here!” Castis demanded, he kept a slightly cooler head at seeing his mated son collapsed in his born son’s arms. The rest of the party had rushed the doors, but stopped at the retired C-Sec Investigator’s commands. “Everyone else, stay back! Corinthus, no one leaves. Sheera, Tiran’s going to need help… go.”

She passed him just as fast her her son had, calling back to her own family. “Pelen get the emergency kit, Voss call an ambulance.”

Tiran skidded to a stop in front of Garrus and Adrien. Immediately beginning a primary survey of the Primarch’s condition. He had the sniper lay his mate down on his side, just in time as Adrien began coughing again, this time bringing up a lot of blood. Garrus’ hands shook and he keened as he watched the doctors work.

He was terrified.

It didn’t matter that he’d stood on countless battlefields, facing down mercenaries and pirates and Reapers. There wasn’t a single thing he could do right now, his mate was dying right in front of him. Garrus could feel the panic sinking deep down in his gut. His eyes were wide and throat pale. He felt sick.

When Adrien’s coughing finally stopped he whined, voice pitched in a ruined warble that made Garrus’ heart nearly stop beating for how much it hurt him. Hands were on him, pulling him away all the sudden, and though he fought them he was powerless to stop it.

Zen was in front of him, breaking his sightline to Adrien and snapping him out of his terror. The older male began asking him questions, what had his mate been doing, what had he ate, where had he been. Everything he would have done had he been trying to get information out of a panicked witness.

“I… I was with him until just before dawn this morning. We had kava, _Siligur_ rolls with _miel_. He left to see Kalla’s mother. Corinthus was with him. I… I don’t know what happened… you… you have to do something… please… you… you have to...”

His eyes snapped to the door when Pelen and Gralga came in at a run, an antigrav stretcher carried between them. Adrien broke out in another fit of wet hacking coughs and Garrus struggled against those holding him back, only realising now that it was his father, Shepard and Solana. Between the three of them they were managing to hold him, but only just.

When the coughing stopped abruptly, Tiran and Sheera started moving faster. Moving as fast as they could to load Adrien onto the stretcher. He was limp, unconscious now. And Garrus’ cries fell on deaf ears as they took him away.

“No no no no... NO!!!”

He fell to his knees as they disappeared from sight. His echoing keen resounding throughout the temple’s perfect acoustics. The happiest day of his life stolen from his talons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me.


End file.
